


The List

by Krystalmatsumiya



Series: My Life With You [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sibling Incest, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 65
Words: 72,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8583019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalmatsumiya/pseuds/Krystalmatsumiya
Summary: Mycroft has just started his quest to become the British government, there is one obstacle in his way. His younger brother Sherlock has left his school again and their mother asks if he can stay...





	1. A phone call

A thick leather book closed with a snap sending light pockets of dust scuttling around in the shafts of light coming in through the partially opened curtains. At twenty-two Mycroft Holmes was the very image of the English City Gentleman. His suit was expensive and cut and from the finest cloth and pressed to perfection. His slightly red hair lay flat against his scalp aided by gel and the fact that he had trained it to lay a certain way since infancy. He arched his graceful and well-manicured fingers up under his nose as he stared at the fire which was crackling near his feet. Against his hand was a whisky and water run over ice. His mother wouldn’t approve but she was at home with father and Sherlock and he was here in their town house blessed with silence. Silence that was almost immediately broken by the shrill phone call which sounded out for a just a moment before he pressed down on the answer call button. 

“Mummy?” He said gently knowing that she was one of only two people who knew his number and the other would never willingly call him unless he wanted something “What has Sherlock done now?”

“…You said that as though he is always causing trouble…” His mother responded, her voice sharp and ready to defend her youngest son. Mycroft sighed just a little his eyes ready to roll wondering yet again at the power of compassion being able to soften a once brilliant mind. “…He…Has left his school…” 

“Again? This makes for the fourth time this month alone…Why do you pay for such a school when they cannot keep Sherlock where he belongs?” Mycroft felt a pang of irritation at the thought of his young brother. He was just starting to work his way through the ranks of her majesty’s secret service and government and the actions of his younger brother could make things more difficult for him. 

“Myc’…” 

“Mycroft…” Mycroft corrected lightly knowing what his mother was going to ask from the tone of her voice. “And my answer is no...” 

“You can’t know what I was going to ask you…” 

“You are wrong…I can tell perfectly well what you are going to ask…You wish for me to take personal charge of Sherlock’s education and…Have him come live here with me…” Mycroft summarised softly his eyes boring into the far side of the fire his mind buzzing with the difficulties that having Sherlock here with him. It would be possible; the house was large and Sherlock already had rooms on the other end from him. His mind wasn’t the worst in the world even if it wasn’t as bright as his own. Already he had devoted many years to feeding it and watching it grow. 

“Mycroft, you are the only one that Sherlock will listen to…You are the only one who truly understands his mind and the way it works…” Mummy prompted and Mycroft acknowledged that that was true. The dullards at the school would never be able to understand the beautiful mind that his brother possessed. “The school is simply no good for him Mycroft, you know how he is…He gets bored…” 

“And I am to entertain him…? In case you have forgotten I have just been employed…I cannot sit around all day…” 

“Please Mycroft…Left in that school I fear what will become of him…He’s bored and will continue to escape…” 

“…Very well…I suppose that we might try it…If however, Sherlock should cause me problems then I am afraid that we shall have to come up with another arrangement…Though, given that Sherlock is currently missing this is rather jumping the gun a little…”

“He always turns up in the end…I will send him when he does, thank-you Mycroft…” His mother said brightly and then cut the phone off without saying goodbye. Mycroft sighed staring into the fire as he put down his phone and then drained his whisky carefully contemplating what life would become of his life when Sherlock came back into it.


	2. And so Sherlock arrives

As it happened Sherlock turned up three days later striding through the house as though he owned it, dressed slovenly in a pair of grey trousers and a t-shirt that had something indistinguishable down the front. A burly taxi driver was following behind laden with suitcases and bags tucked under his arms and in his hands. He had a dazed quality in his face and Mycroft recognised it as being the one that accompanied most adult faces when met with the force that was his teenage brother and himself for the most part. Adults rarely liked to entertain the idea that children could be more intelligent than they and unhappily Sherlock had never learned the art of knowing when not to be a smart arse.   
Turning his attention away from the harried taxi driver Mycroft eyed the luggage warily with an eyebrow lifted to his hairline deciding that against his own words of a trail run his mother appeared to have sent most, if not all, of Sherlock’s belongings. The bags were placed at the foot of the wooden staircase while Sherlock himself slithered into a leather high backed chair. The teen shot him a withering glance and Mycroft sighed taking out his wallet and paying the driver before ushering him back out with an almost sincere sounding;

“Thank-you, sir, for delivering my brother safely…” 

“You’re welcome, interesting lad you’ve got there…” The taxi driver said brightly with all the sincerity of a man that had earned a healthy pay for a short amount of work. Mycroft had learnt long ago that money talked and a smile, no matter how forced, went a long way to making things move more smoothly. “…Told me all manner of things and then…He said that I should get the mole on my neck checked…” 

“…I see…” Mycroft hummed his eyes flicking to the mole on the man’s neck noticing that it was indeed a strange colour and could very well be an indication of something lurking within. Given, however, that Sherlock hadn’t seen the mole at any other time there was a chance that it could be nothing “My brother has a keen interest in biology…Perhaps you would put your mind at ease should you have it checked? There is no harm in that surely?”

“…Right…Um…Yes…I think…I think I shall…” 

“Indeed, good day sir…” Mycroft gave another smile and then closed the door behind the man before turning and walking back to his brother half-worried what he might have gotten up to in the short space of time that he had left him alone. As it was Sherlock was still sitting sullenly in the chair with his knees drawn up to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. His auburn curls flowed around his paler than average face and his eyes appeared to be fixed into a glare that Mycroft had grown accustomed too since Sherlock had entered the difficult teenage years. “…Brother mine…” 

“Save the lecture Mycroft…I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be…Mummy insisted that I come and so here I am…” Sherlock pouted his green/blue eyes flashing as they looked up at him. Mycroft had always been aware that his baby brother had grown to be somebody that was physically attractive. He had high cheek bones and arched brows. His curls softened the sharpness of his features and gave him an impish quality meaning that mundane people would tend to let him get away with more than they would somebody with plainer features. 

“If you stopped escaping from your school then we wouldn’t have to do this…As it happens we have been left with no other choice than to attempt this…” 

“And how do you hope to educate me? If the dullards at the school couldn’t keep me entertained, how do you hope to?” 

“Do not mistake me for those fools, Sherlock…We both know that I am not like them…I taught you before Sherlock and I don’t recall you finding the lessons dull then...” Mycroft sat down in the chair opposite his brother having to admit that have dealing with the brainless and mundane for a few days he had grown to be somewhat fond of the idea of somebody with almost the same intellect as his own to talk with. Sherlock had always been a pouty child, bordering on the stupid, but there was something there behind his eyes and he was quicker in his comebacks unfortunately he had yet to develop them beyond childish grouts as he proved by muttering;

“I’m no longer a child…” 

“Then perhaps, brother mine, you should stop acting like one…” He sighed glancing down at his watch for a moment before standing back up again and smoothing out the imaginary creases from his clothes before saying smoothly “As it stands I shall have to leave you now…Put your belongings in your room and have something to eat…I expect you to be here when I return...Tonight we will arrange your lessons…” 

“As though you haven’t already arranged a lesson plan?” Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow his lips twisting into something that resembled a smile and for some reason Mycroft was reminded of when he was the only one lucky enough to receive genuine smiles from his brother. He thought about the lesson plan that he had worked on that first night after the phone call from his mother.

“…We may revise it…” He muttered and then without waiting for an answer he turned on his heel and swept away pausing only to collect his coat, a long woollen thing that he was particularly fond of. It wrapped around him snugly like a second skin and warmed him through, especially on a cold November day like today. 

“Too much weight to pull it off, brother dear…” Sherlock laughed from his chair and Mycroft scowled fastening the buttons down the front while picking up his umbrella. He left the house and his feet crunched along the gravel and he had the strangest sensation of being watched as he walked. Compelled he moved to look at the house and was surprised to see Sherlock watching him through the bay window the expression on his face surprisingly unreadable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always liked the idea of Sherlock's coat once being Mycroft's so here we have it :)   
> I hope that this was okay


	3. That night

Somewhat predictably the house was dark and silent when Mycroft returned late that night. The bags were still against the staircase. Mycroft knew that there was little reason for him to have expected anything else from Sherlock and, going on that logic, he knew that it was pointless for him to check for a note. He set his umbrella in the stand and removed his coat before collecting the post and moving towards the sitting room and, after letting out a wary sigh, sat himself down on the same chair he had been settled in on the fateful night of the phone call. After allowing himself only a few minutes to question his own sanity at allowing his brother to live him he pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text to Sherlock. Logic told him that he would not receive a response that night but his brother had often surprised him before and as the elder of the two it was his duty to at least keep an eye on him. He stayed seated for a few moments watching his phone before getting to his feet and heading down long corridors and a flight of steps to the kitchen. 

It was one of only three fully modern rooms in the entire house having been remodelled during one of his mother’s rare times when she had thought the house in town would suit her more than the country estate. It was light and airy with electrical fixtures decorated in white and chrome. Personally, it wasn’t to his taste but it was serviceable and there was little reason for him to change it. Of course, when he threw open the door and stepped inside he was not expecting to find his brother studying a slide under a microscope. 

“If you wanted to talk Mycroft you could open your mouth unless you wish for all our conversations to take place via text…” Sherlock said taking his own phone out of his trouser pocket for a moment without looking up from the slide. “As you can see I’m already home, so threats aren’t necessary…” 

“What are you working on?” Mycroft asked hesitantly knowing full well that the answer could range from the practical to the outright ridiculous when it came to his brother and his experiments. Granted when he was the same age his own experiments had been something most would consider unusual but by Sherlock’s standards they were perfectly mediocre. 

“Relax Mycroft, it’s just an earthworm…There wasn’t anything else and I got bored…” Sherlock answered with a shrug stepping aside and motioning for him to see for himself and Mycroft rolled his eyes just a fraction surprised at how relieved he was at that answer. “I should have stayed at school, at least they had better specimens…” 

“Yes, well I apologise that I haven’t kept the fridge stocked with interesting specimens for you to open up and examine, but I’m sure that we will find you something to do…How have you been keeping up with your observation? How many blue tiles are on the right-hand wall coming into the kitchen?” Mycroft asked knowing that it was an easy question, or it should be given that like him Sherlock had spent time in this house. 

“…One hundred and thirteen…There should be one hundred and fourteen but one was broken and hasn’t been replaced, it was there when I was last here with mummy so it broke while you’ve been here alone…” Sherlock answered quickly fixing him a stare “That was too easy, Mycroft…” 

“Of course, brother dear, then since you are here rather unexpectedly and I know that you’ve not eaten…Shall we take a late evening meal out?” Mycroft asked and Sherlock studied him for a moment “Observation in the house is hardly interesting, we both know the place too well…” 

“…Is this your idea of lessons?” Sherlock asked slowly with some surprise and Mycroft shrugged a near genuine smile playing on his lips as he asked;  
“Would you rather I sit and make you quote Shakespeare?” Sherlock pulled a face but didn’t answer his eyes continuing to study him for a long time before he nodded his head slowly. “Very good…Go change Sherlock, into something less…You…If you don’t have a shirt with you I would be more than happy to loan you one…” 

“I have a shirt…” 

“Then change into it…” Mycroft said with a wave of the hand his mind searching through his mind palace to find a suitable restaurant that would still be open and not require a reservation. It wasn’t the kind of thing that he liked to have littering up his brain but unfortunately it came in handy for his employer. Happy would the day be when he no longer needed such information. Sherlock thankfully left the kitchen with no argument and in next to no time he could think of the perfect restaurant, one which allow them to observe while at the same time allow them privacy so that Sherlock with all his natural charm couldn’t offend anyone. A phone call and a moment later he had gotten them a table and he turned on his heel leaving Sherlock’s experiments untouched on the counter top. 

Going back out into the main foyer he found Sherlock riffling through his cases and tossing his clothes here and about. A suit of armour, passed down by one branch of the Holmes family, now had a t-shirt and a pair of undergarments hanging from his arm. Although he felt a vein in the back of his eye pulsing he ignored it and silently retried the offending items of clothes folding them neatly before setting them down on a chair that was more for decoration than useful purpose. Sherlock let out a soft noise indicating that he had found his desired shirt and then proceeded to strip out of the t-shirt. His eyes moved over the lanky slim form noticing purple bruises decorating the pale flesh. 

From the size and shape of the marks it became clear to Mycroft that they had been made by at least three boys, older and broader, than Sherlock was. One had held his brother down with one hand pressed on the centre bone of his chest while the other had held him around the stomach. 

“I can feel you thinking…” Sherlock huffed pulling on the shirt and covering the bruises and body from view. 

“Why did you not tell mummy?” He asked expecting the shrug which he received. Sherlock shot him another glare and turned away running his fingers through his hair and unsettling the curls “Don’t you own a comb?” 

“Doesn’t matter…Come on…I want to beat you at deduction…” 

“Alas brother dear…Today will not be that day…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for the kudos! I hope that this is okay


	4. Dinner and Deductions

“The man on the right…On the first table nearest the bathroom door…He is a sergeant with the marines…” Sherlock said with some excitement as he sat across from him and Mycroft congratulated himself for having brought out he spark. Sherlock had been his sullen self while they had been in the taxi but had positively come alive now they were in the restaurant. As he had predicted they were in a secluded spot as far away from the kitchen as possible allowing Sherlock and himself to guess at their fellow dinning companions free from ridicule, something that he was glad of as he couldn’t yet remove the image of the marks on Sherlock’s body from his mind. 

“Reasoning?” Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow his fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. Sherlock gave him a smile and then rattled off an explanation;

“…He holds himself like a military man but I noticed the blue anchor tattooed on the back of his hand…He has an air of self-importance and an air of command but a captain wouldn’t have had the tattoo on the back of his hand…So that means sergeant…” 

“Anything else?” Mycroft asked having to nod at most of Sherlock’s explanation, it was all what he had seen himself though he was sure that there was something missing. Sherlock looked confused, his teenage face twisting with the thoughts as he craned his neck to look at the sergeant who was making his way through what appeared to be a rather delicious looking cheesecake. 

“…I…I…What else is there?” Sherlock bit on his lip scowling up at him through the locks of his hair the candle that was between them highlighting the structure of his features and the green/blue of his eyes. Although still a teen in the pressed shirt Sherlock commanded the attention of any in the room and Mycroft fancied that many of the patrons were envious of him and his choice of partner. Of course, if they knew of Sherlock’s true nature their envy would probably turn to pity, and rather quickly. 

“He is retired, not by his own choice rather through injury, his leg is somewhat stiff and when he walked to the bathroom he had the use of a cane…Retired around three years, it was an old injury but one that has not yet fully healed and aches when the weather grows cold…” Mycroft smiled as Sherlock slumped ever so slightly in the chair. The eldest Holmes brother lifted his wine glass and purred “I believe that I win that round little brother…”

“…We haven’t proved our deduction yet…How do we know?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft had to admit that he had been rather hoping to avoid that part of the contest. Knowing his brother well enough to know that he wasn’t going to let it go he summoned a waiter who was at his elbow almost instantly. 

“…Do you know the gentleman by the door to the amenities?” He asked politely knowing that the waiter was at least three years older than he was but also knowing that he was a customer that was spending a lot on a meal and, as mummy had always said, confidence was needed for all things. 

“Sergeant Harrison, sir?” The waiter said smoothly with a politeness that was bought by well paying customers and even better tippers.

“He is a sergeant? From the marines?” Sherlock asked his voice carrying a little more than Mycroft would have liked but he supposed that it was a step up from him pouting. 

“Was, sir, he was discharged from service four years ago, due to injury…” The waiter said helpfully and Sherlock once again shrank down into his chair while Mycroft was tempted to gloat but refused to do so in public “Was there a message that you wanted to pass on?” 

“No, I was just proving a point to my brother…Thank-you…” Mycroft said flashing the waiter his best smile and the man nodded, looking mildly confused, before scuttling away again. “Now…It’s my turn…” He looked around the restaurant and then settled his gaze on a woman in the corner. She was around thirty but trying to look younger “The woman on the left, wearing the blue gown…Recently divorced, mother to two children, both boys, on her first date in around 6 months, not a happy date and I doubt a second one will be taking place…” 

“…How do you know she has two children? I thought one because of the stain on her dress that she couldn’t quite get off…” 

“I saw a photo in a purse as we passed, it was of her and two boys…” Mycroft shrugged and Sherlock’s face clouded with irritation as he pointed out;

“That’s not deduction…” 

“No, it’s observation…Both are crucial Sherlock…What is deduction without the power to observe…? You must train yourself to do both…” Mycroft told him with a shrug finishing what was left of his drink uncomfortably aware when Sherlock’s eyes roamed down his body before he asked;

“So…What do you do now, Mycroft? Besides pretending to attend university?”

“What makes you think I pretend?”

“I observed the fact that the lessons you told mummy that you attend don’t take place on the days that you said that you have them, besides…You’re the smart one…” Sherlock said mimicking his voice rather badly and rolling his eyes as he did so “Surely university is as dull to you as school is to me…” 

“Unlike you little brother, I see the merit in furthering my education…As it is I am employed as well as attending university…A minor position in her majesty’s government…” Mycroft offered out quietly knowing that he couldn’t say anymore and hoping that Sherlock would be too bored to ask any more questions. The teen laughed a little drinking what was left of his own drink as he said dryly;

“A stepping stone on your quest for world domination, I’m sure…”

“I don’t want to dominate the world Sherlock, just the very small part of it in which I occupy…And what of you? Have you no plans as to what you want to be when you grow up?”

“…I don’t want to be bored…” Sherlock sighed ignoring the dig about his age and, for some inexplicable reason, Mycroft shivered. The words were not unexpected, Sherlock had been saying a variation of the same words for some years now, but the delivery, the lost expression that filtered over his face that he couldn’t control even for the fraction of a second Mycroft saw it, was somehow chilling. “I believe that it’s my turn…” Sherlock said and the moment was gone, his eyes were once again darting around the room “The waiter that has served us…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with those two would be awkward ne
> 
> I really hope that this is okay ^_^


	5. Maps and Memories

“Where to next?” Sherlock asked as they left the restaurant and stepped out onto the cold November night. Sherlock had come without a coat and reluctantly Mycroft slipped off his woollen coat and handed it over to his brother “…Mycroft?”

“…Just for tonight, brother mine” Mycroft remarked slowly watching as Sherlock instantly made the coat his own flipping up the collar and so it almost cut at the high cheek bones. His long fingers made short work of the buttons down the front and his fingers slipped into his large pockets. The coat didn’t quite fit him, he might be tall for the average sixteen-year-old but Mycroft was still the taller of the two and the broader meaning that the coat hung from his brother’s frame but to his surprise Sherlock looked extremely happy with the coat. 

“You have to admit that it looks better on me…” The teen said with a rare genuine smile and Mycroft rolled his eyes secretly having to agree, knowing that in a few years the coat would look even better. Verbally of Mycroft said nothing of the sort but merely rolled his eyes and then turned smartly on his heel. While they had been in the restaurant the heavens had opened sprinkling the ground with rivers of water which seemed to have a somewhat unworldly glow. Sherlock had always seemed to thrive in the city while Mycroft would only be happy there if there was less noise and people. Determined however that he was going to make this work with Sherlock he offered softly; 

“Shall we see the lights of the city?” 

“You don't have to pretend to be interested, Mycroft, I know you hate it”

“And you like it…Your beloved city…do you still study maps?” Mycroft asked having to admit the fault for that obsession of his younger brother. When Sherlock had been around seven years old he had insisted that he wanted to be a pirate and had run around the house demanding that all and sundry call him buccaneer Sherlock. Attempting to be something of an indulgent big brother Mycroft had played along, often acting as an admiral and giving him detailed maps of their house and estate. They'd spent hours playing the game, with Sherlock and Redbeard tramping through bush and bracken often ending up with cuts and grazes. One birthday he had given Sherlock a collection of old maps of British cities. London had been his favourite and for a while his room had been littered with maps. Then Redbeard had gotten sick and Sherlock’s only friend had needed putting down. The games had ended then, pirates’ hats and wooden swords had been put away but the maps had endured, or as far as he was aware. 

“…A few more interesting ones, the rest I have stored away…” Sherlock muttered from the depths of the coat and Mycroft felt himself smile and he gripped the handle of his umbrellas a little more tightly as he glanced down at his watch saying; 

“Very well…let’s see how well you can recall that information, from here it should take us no longer than half an hour to reach home...” Mycroft smiled knowing that he would have to add an incentive to get Sherlock to do as he wanted even in this “Do it in an hour and I will get you something more interesting than an earthworm to study under your telescope…” 

“I could do it…but you'll slow me down…” Sherlock huffed his fingers coming up out of the pockets of the coat to rub lightly at his temples. His eyes closed and Mycroft allowed himself a few moments to study his brother. It had been three years since he had looked at him properly like this and what he saw didn't please him. His face, as handsome as it was, was pinched and strained in places that a boy of only sixteen shouldn't be. 

Already he could see the signs of a habit forming and he hoped that it was only to cigarettes and hadn't already progressed to something harder. It was a problem with their parents, oh they cared for them well enough…perhaps even loved them but they were no good in giving himself or Sherlock what they needed and the therapist who had bundled their way into their lives after the death of Redbeard had been the worst thing in Christendom saying that they were far too insular and that Sherlock needed friends of his own age. Sherlock had been shipped off to a school for his physical age as had Mycroft. Fortunately, Mycroft was better prepared, or at the very least a better actor than his brother and had been able to pretend that he didn’t find the whole thing as tedious as Sherlock did. Of course, their differences in attitude and temperament had been the start of their downfall. He had hoped that in time Sherlock would be able to adjust and for a time all seemed okay but now he realised that Sherlock was a better actor than he had given him credit. 

“Well? Are you able to do it…?” He asked prompting Sherlock to open his eyes and fix him with a stare. There was a strange blankness for a moment and then his expression cleared and he was grinning rather like an over grown cat.

“I can do it in half an hour! If you don’t hold me up…Come on…” He announced and before Mycroft was aware of what was happening Sherlock had grabbed him by the arm and they were moving down the street. His shoes, tight leather and polished to a shine, squeaked as he moved and it took a few moments for his legs to realise that they were doing more than the slow work that they had gotten used to. Eventually though they were moving quickly his strides matching Sherlock’s and his heels clicking on the pavement. Water flicked up at the back of his trousers but still he moved determined not to let neither his own pride or Sherlock down. His brother’s hand was still fast and tight around his wrist as he were pulled this way and that until they came to an abrupt stop. “Shit…” 

“Language, little brother…” Mycroft chuckled looking with amusement at the source of his brother’s anger. The flashing lights of a temporary set of traffic lights. Men in fluorescent jackets were working on the road meaning that their way was blocked. “You should have accounted for all possibilities brother mine…”

“Shut up, I’m thinking…” Sherlock growled and Mycroft hummed leaning against a metal railing and deciding that maybe this could work between his brother and himself. “Okay…This way…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about this chapter, I tried to make it better but I still think it's boring >.


	6. Codes and disturbances

“…One hour and fifteen minutes…Not bad brother…” Mycroft said as all but collapsed down on to the sofa by the front door. His breathing was irregular and his feet were aching from the speed of which they had run. Sherlock had dragged him through areas that he would never have dreamt about but they had made it safely home. He hadn’t expected Sherlock to manage it so quickly but his brother seemed disappointed. He was pacing back and forth hissing;

“If that road had been open I would have been able to do it within the hour…” 

“Indeed, but do stop pouting, brother mine it is both unattractive and childish…” Mycroft sighed getting to his feet again and walking towards the kitchen his fingers opening up the buttons of his jacket. “It is your own fault that you didn’t take into account all of the possibilities and obstructions…You were able to navigate and correct yourself admirably…Drink?”

“Are you planning on making milk?” Sherlock was being sarcastic but Mycroft could remember the times when Sherlock had been at his elbow when he had made drinks. His nose barely able to reach the counter and his curls brushing against his arm. It was a distant memory, something that he probably should have filed away for something that wasn’t important but for some reason he wasn’t able to do so. He flashed a smirk over at Sherlock and answered with a dry;

“If that’s what you would like little brother…” 

“No thanks…I’m going to bed…” Sherlock grumbled walking towards the stairs, still with Mycroft’s coat covering his lithe body. His shoulders had hunched over a little again seeming as though he was carrying the weight of the world upon them. 

“What about your bags?”

“I will deal with them tomorrow…” Sherlock grunted without turning around trudging up the stairs with slow and steady steps. Mycroft watched him until he had rounded the corner out of view. Sighing his ran his fingers through his gelled hair breaking it free from the tight hold. He continued his way to the kitchen and made himself a cup of strong tea. For a moment he sipped the amber liquid staring at the microscope before deciding that he had indulged himself in enough fancy for one night. 

There was work that he had to do for the morning and already his eyes were itching with tiredness. He carried the china cup and saucer back down the corridor to his study. The Victorian walnut desk had been his grandfather’s pride and joy and Mycroft loved to sit at it now. Most of his work was now down on computer but sometimes, like now, he had to decipher and cypher and for that his mind worked better than any computer. 

He removed his jacket and loosened the tie from the tight grip around his neck before sitting the comfortable wooden chair. He picked up a pen and then two notebooks looking at the list of figures in front of him. As just a small cog in a well-oiled machine even he didn’t yet know the true significance of the words that were in front of him but he knew that it was deeply important work. 

He lost himself in the coding for a couple of hours, forgetting about the tea that he had made and the difficulty that was his brother. A loud banging was all that brought him out of his work and he looked slowly wincing with the pain that was in his neck. Another loud bang followed the first and he allowed himself the luxury of a frown before getting up and hurrying out of the study. He was both confused and relived to find Sherlock on the stairs holding onto his overly large suitcase and dragging it up the stairs by the handle. His face was pale, or rather even paler than it had been when he had seen him last and his eyes appeared to be blown wide. His hair, already a relative nest of curls, was sticking out around his face at all angles and there was a distinct tremble to his hands. 

“Sherlock…What are you doing?” He hissed running to the stairs and then grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him down the stairs. “What have you taken?”

“Nothing…I simply couldn’t sleep…Why are you awake?”

“I was working…” He answered with a snap to his voice pulling his brother under the light and staring into his eyes. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be any signs of intoxication just the tell-tale signs that came with a lack of sleep. His eyes were blood shot with shadows under each one and the skin was off white but there really was no signs that he had taken anything.

The body was warm in his arms and the nearness was unsettling. He rarely allowed people into his personal space and he had definitely not had anybody that made his whole body seem to grow so warm. It wasn’t something that he had been expecting or could understand. He knew that it was a basic chemical reaction but he knew that there was something wrong with him that it had happened with Sherlock, his own baby brother. For his part Sherlock stayed in his arms for a moment. his pink bow shaped mouth was slowly twisting into a smirk. “…What are you smirking about?”

“…Nothing…” Sherlock grunted pulling himself away from his body his feet shuffling against the tiles. Mycroft took a step away from his brother carefully sorting out his feelings and emotions before scratching at the back of his neck asking;

“…Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“I just couldn’t…It is nothing unusual…” The teen huffed moving to sit in the sofa with his knees drawn up against his chest with his chin resting on his knee. He seemed to be back to the defensive stance that he had had when he had first arrived and Mycroft sighed once more his earlier assessment of enjoying Sherlock’s company rapidly fading. 

“Nothing that you have to pretend concern for…” 

“I don’t pretend anything, you are my younger brother, of course I care about you…” Mycroft retorted sharply surprising himself at how real his answer was. Sherlock’s eyes widened for a moment and then another scowl formed. 

“I’m fine…” 

“Clearly…That is why you are having a temper tantrum at four am…” Mycroft looked down at his watch trying to ignore the irritation that he was feeling when he knew that he had to be awake and out of the house before eight. “The balance of probability means that you had a nightmare, something that you must have done while at school…” Sherlock flinched and couldn’t hide it very well. For one small moment Mycroft wished that he was like a normal functioning human and then lightly touched his shoulder “Come…Since you disturbed me you can help me, but be aware Sherlock of what I am trusting you with…You say that your mind is as good as mine…Now is time to prove it…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the characterisation is wrong...But...They're young and only just developing into the pair from the show...  
> I hope that this is okay ^_^


	7. Chapter 7

An hour and a half later Sherlock had fallen to sleep curled up on the leather chair in the corner of the room. Papers, all decoded or at least partially, were scattered here and there and Mycroft decided that only in sleep did Sherlock loose the haunted look and appear to be what he truly was. A frightened little boy with no friends, scared of his mind and of the loneliness which always threatened to engulf him. Mycroft had always known that no matter how much Sherlock protested the opposite, he was a boy that longed to be thought of as ordinary. In part he was guilty of creating the Sherlock that existed now, but guilt was an emotion he would own to having…At least not aloud anyway. 

“Sherlock…” He called taking the papers and smiling at the haphazard handwriting. It was very much like his own with a near perfect cursive but it was small, almost minute on the page so he had to strain his eyes to read it. Knowing that his brother wouldn’t allow it to be anything less than perfect he set it aside on his desk with his own and then knelt beside his brother. His eyes were moving here and there indicating that he was deep in the REM stage of sleep. His mouth was opening and closing as he huffed and moaned. Mycroft attempted to wake him again and then sighed judging his brother’s weight and his own strength and then decided to pick him up. An undignified huff left his mouth as he realised that Sherlock was a little heavier than he had anticipated. He shifted his arms and then realigned his centre of gravity before walking slowly to the door. 

His first day with Sherlock had been above what he had been expecting. It wasn’t all together bad but he knew that he had to have some time to reassess and evaluate or else he was going to be swept along at Sherlock’s pace and that wasn’t something that he could allow himself to do. Sherlock had always been a force of nature and it seemed highly unlikely that he would be able to keep up. The long path up the winding wooden staircase was a difficult challenge but he persisted carefully making his way up. 

Halfway up Sherlock shifted in his arms and he desperately tried to steady himself and sighed with relief when Sherlock settled again. His head resting on his chest to the point that it was almost tucked under his chin. A nose, so cold it was more like ice against his skin, was pressed to him and carefully so that he wouldn’t wake him Mycroft finished the ascent. He let out a shaky breath, his knees almost knocking together at the excursion but sill he continued walking to Sherlock’s bedroom glad that the door was already ajar.   
Inside he found the room in the prefect dust free state that the cleaning lady had left it when he had had her air it out for Sherlock’s arrival. The room was plain and sparsely decorated with wooden panelling and while cream walls. There was a mounted periodic table on one wall and Mycroft wasn’t completely sure why his brother kept it as the information had to be stored in his mind by now but as it was it was perhaps the only thing of any real sentiment that Sherlock kept. He placed his brother carefully down into the bed and sighed with relief at the loss of the weight stretching out his back with his hands on his hips.

Sherlock curled into the foetal position with his hands tucked under his head and Mycroft once again had to admire the way that the lines of his face, which could have been harsh were softened by his youth and the fact that his face and body posture was for once at ease allowing him to see his real brother for what felt like the first time since he had arrived. He looked so vulnerable very much like the brother that used to play pirates yet at the same time he looked like a stranger. He reached out and stroked an escaped curl back into the nest before pulling his hand away quickly as though it had stung him to do it. 

Shaking his thoughts he moved down and pulled the shoes from his brothers feet and then tossed them over in the corner of the room. Once done he pulled up a blanket over his brother and then quickly turned on his heel and strode down to his own room on the other side of the house. It had been his parents room before he had moved in and once he had he had stripped everything out of it and stripped away the almost garish flower prints his mother had put in before making it his own. It was almost as devoid of personal touches as Sherlock’s but it was far more grandiose with a stately four poster bed and a large tapestry over one wall. He had found it in the attic once and had decided that it was worth saving. 

He toed off his shoes and then stripped himself of his shirt and trousers before walking to the bed. He dropped down onto the mattress and was asleep before his had hit the pillow.

When he awoke sunlight was streaming in through the stained glass windows that he had forgotten to close casting a strange and almost eerie orange glow around the room. There was also the odd sensation that he was being watched and he sat up his shoulders sagging with something akin to relief when he realised that it was Sherlock perched on the corner of the bed like some kind of avenging angel before he jerked and realised that his brother was sitting wide awake on the edge of his bed staring at him like he would a bug under his microscope. 

“Sherlock…What are you doing in here?”

“…Your phone…It kept ringing…” Sherlock answered with a bored looking shrug and Mycroft groaned rolling over and attempting to pick up his phone from its usual place only to find that it wasn’t there. “It was your boss…I told him that you wouldn’t be coming in today as you were too thoroughly shagged out…” 

“What…?! Sherlock…What are you playing at?!” 

“Nothing brother dear, relax before you give yourself an aneurysm, I told them that something urgent came up, namely your little brother being dumped on you without warning, I’m offended Mycroft, he said that you had never told him about me…” Sherlock said drily with a well-practiced pout and Mycroft had to acknowledge that he had never discussed his brother with anybody at work though in a place like that it was unlikely that nobody had known. “…You will be there in an hour and will have to make up for the two hours you missed over the next few days…You’re welcome…You can thank me now…”   
“…Indeed…” Mycroft sighed brushing his hair with his fingers before wincing at the feel of dry gel.   
“You should be careful with how much you mess with your hair brother…One day you might be thankful that you had any at all…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay ^_^


	8. Chapter 8

Mycroft stepped out of the shower and rubbed his hair with a towel. The bathroom attached to the master bedroom was a feature that his mother had brought to the house and it was one of the few things that he liked. The tiles were plain, a checkerboard pattern of alternating white and black running up to about half way up the walls finished with a soft cream. The floor was the finest Welsh slate which was prevented from becoming too chilly by underfloor heating and grey rugs. The shower was both stylish and functional and there was a long full length mirror which allowed him to study his own body. 

He was under no illusion that he was he stuff dreams were made of. He was thin but not painfully so. There were few blemishes on his skin though his body hair, which sparsely covered his chest in little tuffs, gave him what he considered to be a rather unattractive appearance. 

“Do you spend a lot of time admiring yourself?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft turned pulling down a towel to cover his genitals staring aghast at his brother who had come to the door and was leaning himself against the jamb. His face was expressionless and bored looking but his green blue eyes moved down his body “It doesn’t matter what you look like, your intellect is by far the most attractive thing…” 

“…Sherlock…Get out…” He ordered crisply trying not his best not to flush with embarrassment at both the rude interruption and Sherlock’s somewhat compliment. Sherlock gave a somewhat smirk and then left the room closing the door with a snap behind him and Mycroft was left feeling frozen. It felt as though the world had shifted upon its axis and he was horrified to realise that the reason for that fear was because he had enjoyed both the compliment and the look from his little brother. It was gross, the most abnormal thing that he could think of and he had to sit on a stool for a few moments to try and recapture his lost thoughts and feelings. 

He worked with some of the finest minds in the United Kingdom and liaised with ones throughout the world it wouldn’t do for them to find a chink in his armour and not something so…So perverse. Of course, this was just a power play by his brother. One of the many stupid things that Sherlock had done over the years to try and gain the upper-hand over him and he was ashamed at how well it had worked. Using that knowledge to recover his scattered senses he breathed deep again and checked his reflection for a moment. His face was thankfully free from all emotion, his colour was normal and his eyes looked relatively clear from surprise. Deciding that he would do he walked purposely out of the bathroom and found his brother sprawled on his bed staring at the tapestry as though he were trying to set it alight with his mind. 

“The lovers…Unfitting for your bedroom surely?” Sherlock asked without looking at him and Mycroft felt a vein in his temple pulse knowing that he was once again being taken at Sherlock’s pace. The tapestry was indeed of two lovers from Greece, set with garlands and figures as though at a wedding feast “…When have you ever had a lover?”

“…I despise the very word brother dear, but the tapestry is an original and as such worth several thousand pounds…” He answered calmly not rising to the bait that had been set out by barbed words. He made his way to the large oak wardrobe and pulled out his suit for the day. He knew that he had to hurry, that he was already an hour late and that, no matter excuse Sherlock had given, his employers were not patient people and would take his apparent affection for his brother distasteful and a sign of weakness. But he refused to rush. His clothes were his battle armour as surely as the suits of armour had been for the various Holmes’ that had come before. 

“So, it’s a display of wealth then? Why keep it in your bedroom? Nobody is likely to see it…” Sherlock said again once again trying to mock him for his lack of romantic entanglements and Mycroft decided to take the high road and chose instead to ignore the comments. He picked a bespoke Savile Row suit with silk shirt and a grey tie and shot his brother a pointed look. “What? It’s not like you have something that I haven’t seen, Mycroft…” 

“…That you want to see me now is faintly disturbing…Did you watch the youths in your dormitory changing?” Mycroft asked knowing that if the answer was an affirmative he might have the answer to the bruising that had appeared on his brother’s body. For his part, Sherlock looked genuinely confused as to why he would want to look at anybody in his dorm partially clothed or unclothed and he grunted;

“No…Why would I?”

“You are a young bo…Man…It is natural that you should explore that side of nature…” Mycroft answered with a shrug and he was surprised to see Sherlock’s eyes widen just a little too big for his face indicating that even if he was trying to act as calm and emotionless as he was Sherlock was still young. The bungling therapist had announced once that Sherlock was a high functioning sociopath and it was something that Sherlock had taken to heart. Mycroft on the other hand had researched the subject when she had gone and found that like most of the tripe that had found its way out of her mouth it was wrong. Sherlock was not a sociopath, at least not at the time but it had been worrying to think that maybe he was becoming one now and he was glad to see that something of his little brother remained. Sherlock had been the normal one out of them for the most part even if Mycroft had, rather like a chameleon, pretended better.

“You…You explored your own…” 

“…What do you think Sherlock?” Mycroft sighed motioning for him to close his eyes yet again and after rolling them Sherlock did so and he was able to dress. “You can open your eyes now brother…Have you had breakfast?”

“…I wasn’t hungry…May I come into town with you? Or are you going to pretend to give me lessons?” Sherlock asked and although Mycroft wanted to ask what he would be doing in town he decided against it knowing that Sherlock wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

“…You can’t come to my place of work…But I suppose you may, if you promise to behave…We will meet up for lunch…I will set you an assignment then…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank-you to everyone that has given this story kudos, subscriptions, and Bookmarks! I was so nervous about posting it >.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This POV shifts to Lestrade for this chapter

Police Constable Gregory Andrew Lestrade, or Greg to his friends, thought he'd seen a lot since joining the force. His beat was the rougher part of London. The place the older fellers gave to the new recruits to test their steel and grit in staying as a copper. If you couldn't walk these streets, then you weren't fit for the badge or so they said when they'd handed out the assignments. He had seen things, both minor and major crimes some that were enough to turn the stomach and sicken the heart, and still he had the balls to stick on his uniform and continue. It was in the blood his dad had been a copper as had his grandfather after he had left the army and he was proud of it. He had decided long ago that he wanted to be in major crimes and homicide and as such he had allowed himself to be made available at every crime scene they could produce.

So, when he started his beat that blustery cold Friday morning in November he wasn't all that surprised to see a youth skipping out on school and hiding out with the local…undesirables...along with London’s forgotten people. What did surprise him was that the boy didn't seem to be the normal young tearaway that hung around getting high and drinking cheap booze. His clothes were made of fine cloth, a slick pair of trousers and a slick maroon shirt that was barely covered by a coat. His hair was a mess of auburn curls reminding him of a statue he'd seen once on a school trip around a local art gallery. He looked out of place against the tramps and yet he seemed to belong amongst them. 

Greg had never claimed to be a poetic sort but as he looked at the youth sitting on the low brick wall long delicate fingers holding a crudely rolled joint he looked like a fallen angel that had claimed those here as his own. Deciding that, unlike most of the kids found down here, the boy would have somebody who missed him he walked forward. His mere presence forcing most of the men to scatter like cockroaches that had had a light shone on them. The boy, for it was a boy he was much more certain now he could see his delicate features a lot more plainly, stayed staring up at him with eyes blown wide his pupils so dilated that he could barely see the colour of his irises. 

“Officer!” The boy said brightly saluting him with two fingers against his temple before laughing at nothing smoke leaving his mouth like a dragon. Greg fumbled just a fraction not knowing how to react to the blatantly cocky attitude. It was as though, even in the state he was, that he was safe. That somebody would sweep in and make this all go away. 

“Lad, what are you doing down here?”

“I was bored so I was spending time with my…Associates…but you seemed to have scared them all off so now I'm talking to you…” The boy said and Greg had to admit that he blinked at the crisp aristocratic tone. It was as though he was talking to royalty and he quickly tried to sift through the memory banks in his mind to see if the face fit. “Relax…I’m not royalty…Or rather I am but it’s too far removed for it to be of any consequence…Mycroft would be able to tell you exactly how many are in line to throne…In fact, I’m sure that my brother has planned many ways in which he could kill them and take the crown…Though I’m pretty sure that he would never do it…My brother is the smart one after all…” 

“Whatever you say kid…” Greg huffed knowing that he had to take him in. The teen was clearly as high as a kite and it was clear that he didn’t know what he was saying. He was still rather more articulate than the normal ones that he picked up. “You are aware that you’re going to have to come with me, aren’t you?”

“…I suppose…” The boy shrugged slowly blinking rapidly for a few minutes before getting unsteadily to his feet. “Shall we get going then? It’s rather cold out here, isn’t it?”

“…May I ask what your name is?”

“…William Sherlock Holmes...” The boy said in a tone that was far too happy for the occasion and Greg found himself wrapping his hand around the boy’s arm to keep him steady at his side as he led him down the alleyway towards the patrol car that he had left there. The walkie-talkie on his shoulder buzzed for a moment but he shut it down with a click of his thumb. “…Is your father proud that you followed him into the police force…?” 

“…How…? How did you know that?” Greg asked staring at the mop of auburn curls that were next to him but the boy shot him a harsh irritated look as though he were stupid and then muttered something about the watch on his wrist. William had fallen silent by the time they had reached the car. He sat the boy in the back shaking him ever so slightly to make sure that he was still awake before he asked “Should I phone your parents, so that they can meet us at the station?

“I highly doubt it; my parents are in the Mediterranean on a cruise…It would be difficult for them to reach the police station in the 24 minutes that it will take for us to reach the station…” William told him in the bored voice that he was becoming used to. “Besides I have been placed into the care…Such as it is…of my elder brother Mycroft...You can call him but he will not be very happy and will probably leave me to stay in a cell, at least for as long as you can hold me…” 

“…I’m sure that’s not true…” Greg said in a kindly tone used to dealing with teens that were sobbing and begging him not to call their parents. He wasn’t used to a teen looking so bored and business like. It was unnerving and, in a strange way it was rather sad. The sure tone and note in his voice when he said that neither parents nor his brother would come for him. He looked at the boy through the mirror and noticed that he had closed his eyes almost as if he were asleep. 

“My brother’s number is in my phone…” William said opening just one eye and staring back at him as he fished an expensive looking phone from his pocket “You can call him if you’d like, just stop staring at me like I’m a puppy you’ve just seen kicked…I’m going to sleep…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it's a little early for their meeting but I thought it would be nice :  
> I hope that this is okay ^_^


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft sighed as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He had told Sherlock not to disturb him while he was working. Looking around the room he saw that nobody in the office was watching him and slowly he got up from his desk and made his way to the toilet. He closed the door with a snap and pulled the phone from his pocket frowning at the unknown number that he saw flashing up at him. His eyebrows drawn together he searched through the folder off numbers in his mind before realising that this was the number of the local police station. 

“Hello? Mycroft Holmes speaking…” He hummed in a polite business-like manner forcing a smile on his face knowing that it made him sound happier even if he wasn’t particularly feeling it. The man on the other end of the line cleared his throat and then sounded as though he was shuffling some papers before saying;

“Mr Holmes, I’m Greg Lestrade of the metropolitan police department…Your brother William…” 

“Sherlock…” Mycroft corrected his noise wrinkling just a little at the mundane name that his parents had given his brother. Such a common vulgar name, Sherlock was much more his brother. Of course, originally it had been a last name, meaning bright hair but it had suited his brother, who from the moment of his birth had been blessed with his auburn curls. Thankfully his parents had seen sense and had granted him permission to give Sherlock his middle name. Then it was a simple matter of using it and only it until the name Sherlock was all his brother would respond to. His parents had been upset at first but when Sherlock had proven himself to be almost as gifted Mycroft himself it had made sense for them to solely use the more interesting of his names.

“Ah…I’m sorry, sir, he gave his name as William…” There was another shuffling of papers and the sound of a cheap biro scraping over even cheaper paper. 

“William Sherlock…We use his second name…Is there something that I can help you with officer? I’m currently at work…” Mycroft hummed knowing that his boss, would currently be watching the clock and would more than likely be waiting for him outside the door when he left. 

“…Here…Shouldn’t you be worried?” Lestrade asked with a shocked sounding voice and Mycroft sighed feeling his smile slip away. Was he concerned? Not really, the officer on the other end of the line had already told him that Sherlock wasn’t in any sort of danger. He had said that Sherlock had given him his own name after all and the tone of voice was more like the one that teacher used when they wanted to say that Sherlock was in trouble. 

“…Perhaps but I’m not, my brother is in your care after all…What has he done?”

“…He was skipping school, I found him by the arches…He was drinking and smoking Marijuana...” The officer said quietly, sounding almost as though he were trying to get a rise out of him, and Mycroft felt himself gripping at the phone a little too hard, the vein in his temple pulsing with frustration. He had known that Sherlock was on something but he had hoped that he was being overly cautious. 

“I see…Has he been arrested…?” Mycroft asked doubting that he would as it would be Sherlock’s first offence and he was a minor but there were other factors to consider. There was the very real possibility that Sherlock could have gotten mouthy with the officer or annoyed him to the point that the man wanted to punish him. 

“It wasn’t his own, I think that we can just give him a warning this time...” Lestrade told him gently and Mycroft relaxed guessing that this was another person that had fallen for the softness of his brother. “As he said that you’re his guardian and that your parents aren’t in the country I would need you to come down and sign some paperwork…” 

“…Very well…I will be taking my lunch break in around 50 minutes I will come and collect him then…Good day, officer…” Mycroft clicked off the phone quickly before the officer was given another chance to speak and then rubbed his temples slowly with his fingertips. His irritation was evident in his face and he quickly pushed it away before stepping out of the toilet and, as he predicted, almost smacked into his boss the elderly and esteemed, Joseph Bell. 

The man had formerly been a lecturer in Edinburgh but had made his way down to London at some point in the 1970’s. He still spoke with the Scottish brogue and had a friendly and intelligent face. His hair was comprised of soft waves of grey brushed back away from his bright eyes temples. His mind, as he often told him, was not unlike his own but Mycroft fancied that Bell with his enthusiastic nature was more like his younger brother than he was him. Of course, for all is friendly countenance he was still the most dangerous man in London and it took a lot for Mycroft to keep a perfectly calm expression as he was being peered down a long and wonky nose. 

“Mycroft, is everything well?” The man asked somewhat cheerfully and Mycroft gave a polite smile and a nod. 

“…Fine, sir, was there something that you needed me for?”

“…Come to my office…” Bell turned on his heel and then marched towards his office which had to be the most secure room in the UK. The walls were a muted grey colour with the space only for a desk, a filing cabinet and two chairs. On the wall behind the desk was a grandiose portrait of her Majesty queen when she had first ascended to the throne looking more like Britannia than a real flesh and blood woman. From the moment, Mycroft, had entered the office last year he had decided that it would be his one day but now he could feel that slipping away somewhat. Bell moved and sat down at the desk motioning for him to do the same with a wave of his hand “Those codes that you broke for me last night…I noticed that there was different handwriting…” 

“My brother, sir…I apologise…” Mycroft said knowing that he wouldn’t truly get into trouble for allowing Sherlock to view the papers as he hadn’t told him anything that he didn’t need to know but to his surprise Bell lifted a hand and shook his head saying;

“Don’t…It appears that your brother found another pattern than we had been expecting…” 

“Sir…?” 

“It was scrawled rather untidily at the bottom of the page…” Mycroft inched forward as Bell jabbed the page with his forefinger and sure enough there were a few notes that he was almost positive hadn’t been there last night “Your brother what does he do?”

“Nothing, sir, he did attend school until very recently but he found that it wasn’t to his liking…” Mycroft informed the older man knowing that Bell probably already knew everything. “He’s currently staying with myself, our parents hope that I will be able to teach him…” 

“Indeed…Well, bring him in tomorrow, I wish to have a word with him…For now you should go and fetch him from the police station…And then perhaps take a nap…It looks like you need it my boy…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since Dr Joseph Bell was the inspiration for Sherlock Holmes, I couldn’t resist using him here as Mycroft’s, and in the future Sherlock’s, somewhat mentor :)
> 
> Wow! I can’t believe that this has 588 hits and 41 Kudos! I really hope that everyone is continuing to enjoy it! This is only my second Sherlock story so I am really worried about it >.< Romance will happen eventually I promise


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again a shift to Lestrade's POV this will be the last time for a while I promise

Greg blinked at the dead phone that was in his hand and then at the boy who had curled up on the hard bench under the window. His head was resting on his hands and he genuinely looked as though he were in a feather bed and not on a lump of council property. His face was far too pale in his opinion and the shadows under each eye were far too pronounced. His breathing was steady and Greg sighed a little wishing that he could find something to put over him. The station wasn’t the warmest place on earth at the best of times and right now the heating was on the blink again. Public spending was a nightmare. Looking around the office he saw that one of his colleagues had left out a duffle coat and he crossed the room quickly to get a hold of it. 

William…Or rather Sherlock, as he had been so quickly corrected, didn’t stir as he draped the coat over him and Greg had to hold back the urge to ruffle the boy’s locks. He reminded him of the kids at school that were always picked on. He’d tried to help them out whenever he could but there was little he could have done without getting into constant fights himself and his father had always given him a wallop around the ears for getting into too many fights. Sherlock let out a breath and Greg stepped away from him to sit at the desk. He knew that he should put the boy on the lock-up but that didn’t feel right with him. Sherlock had a mouth on him but under all of that there was something rather vulnerable about him and he didn’t want to see him in the hold. 

“My brother isn’t coming then?” Sherlock asked softly from under the folds of the coat. “I told you that he wouldn’t…” 

“I thought you were asleep…” Greg grumbled feeling awkward as a pair of eyes and a nose appeared from under the duffle coat. Sherlock’s blue/green eyes rolled a little as he grumbled;

“I was…You think too loud! I could hear the gears of your brain as they move…” 

“That is probably just the drink and drugs in your system…” Greg said trying not to be offended by the tone or the implication that he was slow at thinking. 

“Oh please, I barely had any…At least not enough for it to permanently effect my brain…” Sherlock huffed vanishing back under the coat and Greg found himself tapping his fingers against the desk before looking up at the vending machine behind the door. 

“Want some crisps? And maybe a chocolate bar?” Greg asked getting to his feet and taking out some coins. Sherlock’s face appeared again his eyebrow lifted his forehead as he mumbled sulkily;

“…I’m not a child…” 

“Neither am I but I can enjoy a snickers every now and then…” Greg laughed brightly thinking of the many wrappers that he had tucked away of the sweet treat. Sherlock frowned a little more chewing on the corner of his lip his eyes momentarily looking confused leaving the PC to wonder how long it had been since somebody had shown the boy even a little bit of kindness. He wouldn’t have gotten any from the brother, judging by the attitude he had shown on the phone, and he doubted that the parents were any better. He got out two snickers, two ready salted crisps, and a can of coke before heading back to the youth who had sat up now and then swinging his legs out in front of him. He didn’t say thank-you but he did take the pop, and the snacks and Greg counted that as a win. He sat down again and opened the crisps as Sherlock did the same “So, what kind of name is Sherlock?”

“Scottish…” 

“You’re a Scot? You don’t sound Scottish…”

“And you don’t sound French…What kind of name is Lestrade?” Sherlock asked in reply and honestly Greg wanted to say that it was just his last name and nothing as pompous as Sherlock and Mycroft. Instead he chuckled and nodded saying;

“Touché…So, what does it mean?”

“Glowing locks…My parents say my brother named me…Are you now going to ask if my brother and I are close…The answer is no…We can barely tolerate each other…Neither of us can bear being in the same room as each other without having to compete…And yet…” Sherlock’s voice trailed off and Greg was positive that he saw something in the eyes that made him feel that this Mycroft character wasn’t all bad. 

“And yet?” 

“My brother is the only person who can make me feel stupid…” Sherlock mumbled eating his crisps and Greg blinked slowly trying to work out why that gave the boy a smile when most people would hate being thought of as stupid. 

“…You say that like it’s a good thing…Most people don’t want to feel stupid...” He pointed out and Sherlock shot him a harsh, withering look before muttering;

“That’s because most people are naturally stupid…”

“That’s a rather pessimistic attitude for somebody so young…” 

“…Youth has nothing to do with intelligence…Perhaps there is something to be said on world experience…But it does not dictate intelligence…” Sherlock popped open the can of coke with his fingernail staring at the liquid which bubbled forth with a studious air before moving forward and sucking on the top. He frowned at the taste for a moment and then sighed drinking it down so hard that it caused his Adam’s apple to bob frantically and Greg forced his eyes back down to the crisps he was eating until he heard the crisp sharp sound of somebody clearing their throat. “Mycroft…” Sherlock breathed and Greg turned to look at the man that had just entered and had to admit that he was surprised.   
Basing his opinion only on Sherlock he had been expecting his brother to be Adonis in human form. Their hair was the same colour with a coppery tinge to it but unlike Sherlock’s nest it was brushed neatly to one side. His face was plainer than Sherlock’s also though his back was as rigid as a board and the suit was probably worth more than he’s weeks’ pay. He looked like a civil servant though like Sherlock he looked young to be in such a position. 

“…Lestrade?” Mycroft asked politely and Greg found himself nodding while getting to his feet “Thank-you for retrieving my brother and for staying with him…I know that he isn’t the easiest person in the world to get along with…” 

“He’s been no trouble…” Greg answered somewhat honestly still concerned about Sherlock going with this man even if he was his brother. Sherlock was continuing to eat his crisps and drink his drink and if it wasn’t for the expensive clothes Greg would have thought he looked like any other teen. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon…You said an hour…” 

“I was given leave to come early…Sherlock…Where is your own coat?” Mycroft asked and Sherlock gave a shrug turning his attention to his snickers bar and Greg was pleased to see that despite his attitude earlier he was looking very happy about it. “Sherlock…” 

“Um, Mr Holmes…Maybe we should fill in the paperwork while Sherlock finishes his chocolate?” Greg asked and Mycroft shot him a hard look but then nodded slowly pulling a pen from his own jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that this is okay ^_^


	12. Chapter 12

Mycroft stared at the police officer as he filled in the paperwork. The man’s eyes constantly seemed to move over to Sherlock and wrinkles formed as he gave a smile, seemingly happy that Sherlock was eating the cheap chocolate. It wasn’t something that they had for themselves before and he was surprised that Sherlock was eating it. 

“See I told you that you’d like it…” Lestrade said and Sherlock rolled his shoulders a little the right side of his mouth curling into a somewhat smile. It was clear affection and Mycroft found himself feeling irritated with the sight of the half smile on his brother’s lips. 

“Is this all that I have to sign?” Mycroft asked crisply pulling the paperwork from the officer to force him to look away from his brother and back at him with surprise on his face.   
“Yes, Mr Holmes…Just at the bottom…It’s just a statement that you received young Sherlock back into your care and that he was given a warning…” Lestrade said with another little smile over towards Sherlock who was now studying him with an almost bewildered expression on his face “There will be a record kept here at the station but other than that it shouldn’t affect him in the future…” Lestrade’s eyes once again moved over to Sherlock as the tone of his voice changed and he said warningly “At least this time…” 

“I see…” Mycroft nodded quickly reading the paper and then signing his name with the fountain pen his parents’ had given him when he had been accepted into the university. It had been his great-grandfathers and was made of silver and tipped with gold. Oddly, William Holmes, was inscribed on the lid. He slid the paper back to Lestrade and then shrugged his way out of the coat and held it out towards his brother who was staring up at him with a strange, somewhat calculating expression “Put the coat on Sherlock…You’ve already embarrassed me enough for today…” 

“…You embarrassed? I highly doubt it…” Sherlock mumbled getting to his feet and slipping on the woollen coat as though he owned it automatically flipping up the collar and Mycroft rolled his eyes just a fraction aware that he was being watched very closely and disapprovingly by Lestrade who didn’t appear to be impressed with the way that he was treating Sherlock. 

“Fine, you showed me up in front of my superior, I wasn’t embarrassed but I am extremely annoyed…Now if we can hurry and get out of here, I have no desire to stay a minute longer than I have to in here…” Mycroft said before turning and inclining his head in Lestrade’s direction. The young constable was openly scowling at him now but he ignored it and gave a smile “Thank-you for taking care of my brother…” 

“Yeah, right…It weren’t all bad…Don’t take this the wrong way, Sherlock, but I hope that this is the last time that we see each other…” Lestrade chuckled at his own joke and Mycroft watched his brother study the older man for a moment before he nodded. Mycroft wasn’t overly convinced by his brother’s attitude but Lestrade was an optimistic it seemed as he grinned and then nodded as though Sherlock had made a promise never to fall again. “Mr Holmes…” 

“Lestrade…” Mycroft nodded his hand coming down to rest on the small of Sherlock’s back a he propelled him through the police station. He was uncomfortably aware of eyes watching them as they left the more private areas and then out into the reception. A woman nodded at them from behind the desk as she buzzed them out of the room and he nodded as a thank-you continuing to push Sherlock out. The air was crisp when they found themselves on the street and Mycroft held up a hand waving down a taxi. “Get in Sherlock…” He growled when it seemed that Sherlock was about to refuse. “I don’t have time for you to act like a child so get into the car…” 

“…Fine…” Sherlock grumbled getting into the back and pressing his head against the opposite Door. Mycroft followed close behind his arm brushing up against his Sherlock’s. His brother pulled away pressing himself up against the door as much as he could, keeping his eyes closed. Not wanting to cause a scene in a taxi, Mycroft kept his feelings in check and gave the driver their address. If the man’s eyes rose at the location in the expensive part of the town he showed no signs of it and promptly turned the car and drove them almost all the way out of London where their stately home was located. Mummy had wanted to open it up to public tours but when Mycroft had expressed his wish to stay in the home whilst in London sense had prevailed and he now only had to suffer the occasional school trip who were only allowed in during the hours of the day that he wasn’t there to deal with them. 

It was a fine example of Elizabethan architecture with sharp, almost ugly faux towers, and strange shapes that were thankfully uniform and thus pleasing to the eye. It was the only one of its kind anywhere in the world. Sherlock had always hated it, much the same way their mother had, not understanding that the visual of the house alone aided in the impression that he wanted to help create. Of course, that was one of the many differences between himself and his brother.

The taxi came to a stop and Sherlock was out of the door before he could even pay the fare. He didn’t go into the house though but rather stalked around the now defunct stables. The gardener used it as a place to store his tools and that was where he found Sherlock sitting amongst mole traps and flower pots smoking a cigarette. His beautiful eyes looked at him with something akin to anger as he said;

“If you’re going to shout at me, will you hurry up and do so?” 

“Oh, please Sherlock, must you be so dull? You know me better than that I hope…” Mycroft sighed leaning against the rustic brick wall and pulling out one of his own cigarettes and lighting it with a zippo lighter. It wasn’t that he wasn’t angry but he had learnt long ago that anger, or at the very least shouting at Sherlock, only made things worse. Unfortunately, and embarrassingly, he hadn’t yet found an answer of what would work on his brother. 

“Then what are you going to do?” 

“I could send you back to school…” Mycroft hummed with a roll of the shoulders. It was an empty threat but Sherlock didn’t know that. From when he had seen the marks on Sherlock’s body he had decided that his brother wouldn’t be going back there. Sherlock didn’t know that however as for just a moment his eyes widened and his mouth parted. It was over before it really begun but Mycroft knew that he had gotten his point across. “…That was the deal with Mummy…If I no longer wanted you here then you go back…” 

“Then send me…” 

“No…Not yet, we shall draw a line under this incident and we shall speak no more of it...” Mycroft said slowly dropping his cigarette to the floor. “As it happens I think I may have something that might stop even you from feeling so bored…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay ^_^


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning found an apprehensive Mycroft leading his brother, who had not spoken two words together to him since yesterday in the stable, into the offices. The halls were long and winding and more than once he had to stop and prove that Sherlock had clearance to be there. Instead of looking impressed Sherlock was looking increasingly blanker. Finally, they reached the inner sanctum and they were standing in front of Bell’s office.

“Sherlock…I’m sure that even you can understand how important this is and how you must behave…” He said quietly to his brother who looked up at him with his trademarked scowl but gave the barest hint of a nod and slowly Mycroft brought his hand up and rapt lightly on the wood with his knuckles and waited for the barked order of;

“Come…” Mycroft gave a breath and then opened the door pushing his brother inside. Bell was standing in front of his desk, a sheet of paper in each hand golden glasses perched on his long nose. He looked up at them for a moment as if forgetting why Sherlock was there and then he blinked giving a friendly smile removing his glasses and putting them into his breast pocket. “Mycroft and this…This must be the brother…Young Sherlock, the man who gave us a new puzzle, pleasure to meet you, I'm Joseph Bell…” 

“Sherlock Holmes, pleased to meet you, sir…” Sherlock mumbled with a polite nod and Mycroft relaxed just a little until his boss said with a tone that offered no room for argument;

“Mycroft, don’t let us keep you…I’m sure that there is a mountain of paperwork on your desk from yesterday…” Mycroft lifted his eyes in Sherlock’s direction and irritatingly Sherlock just gave a shrug and dropped himself casually into the chair beside Bell. Bell lifted one of his shockingly white eyebrow his head tilting fractionally to one side. Knowing that to stay any longer would damage his reputation even further Mycroft nodded and then left the room. 

Apprehension flooded through him as he sat at his desk. As Bell had predicted there was a stack of paperwork, almost as large as his computer, waiting for him and he tried his hardest to ignore the nervous feelings even though his eyes continuously returned to Bell’s door. It was hours before Sherlock emerged from within followed closely by Bell. Both were looking happy, as though they had spent the time laughing and enjoying themselves. All the people in the office turned to look at the sound. The happy looking pair walked over towards them and Bell casually leaned over his desk saying;

“Sherlock and I are going for lunch...I don’t imagine that I shall be back for the rest of the day…I shall see Sherlock home…” 

“I see...” Mycroft replied knowing that there was nothing else he could say. Bell wasn’t just his boss but also the most important man in the UK. The pair left with Bell’s hand resting on the small of Sherlock’s back. It was a strange sight and something that sent an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling washing over him. He gnashed his teeth and told himself that it was jealousy that his brother had the attention of his boss but deep down he knew that it was because his boss had the attention of his brother. It wasn’t a comfortable thought and he was surprised that he had so much emotion about it but the sight of Sherlock laughing along with somebody irritated, more so when all he was getting was a mix of scowls, fake half-smiles and pouts was almost as much as the disapproving looks that he had received from the police officer the day before.

He had partially known that Sherlock and Bell would get on. They had similar personalities and interests and he shuddered to think what they might get up to left to their own devices but at the same time he wished that he could be joining them. Ignoring the swirl of emotions that he wasn’t used to having he continued to loyally trudge through the mountain of paperwork. He had almost finished the entire load when a shadow fell over the desk and he didn’t have to look up to know that it was Sherlock. 

“…I thought that you would be taken home?” He hummed continuing to type while Sherlock pulled up a chair from the now empty desk at his side. The teen was back to a blank expression but he gave a shrug and sat down his eyes looking over the papers as he hummed;

“…I decided against it…Joseph understood…”

“Joseph?”

“...Dr Bell…He has decided to be my teacher…It turns out that he was an Anatomy and forensic teacher before he became boring…” Sherlock reached over his desk and stole one of the sweets that he kept in the bowl. He had always been a firm believer in the theory that a little sugar helped the brain to stay focused on tasks, at that moment he could have used some sugar as he was having difficulty in registering that Sherlock had called the physical embodiment of the British government boring in the same way one might a simple sum. 

“Boring?” 

“Yes, brother dear, boring…Dull…This is dull and tedious...You surely can’t pretend otherwise…Sitting in pokey little offices all day pushing paperwork back and forth…I’m surprised your brain hasn’t started to rot from the tedium of it all…” Sherlock’s face screwed up as he looked at the file he had been transcribing “Joseph has asked me to help with that code I discovered…In exchange he would be my teacher or at the very least show me interesting things…” Mycroft felt a muscle in his cheek pull as he realised that Sherlock was speaking with so much enthusiasm again it was like talking to his brother in the days when he had faith in the world and although he could feel the uncomfortable waves of jealousy and annoyance again he decided that he would ignore it an accept that his boss had achieved something that neither he nor his parents had been able to do.   
“How were you able to find another code, Sherlock…I and the others have been working on it for weeks and we could never spot it…” 

“Of course, you couldn’t, you may be the smart one, Mycroft but I’m the one with the imagination…” Sherlock said with a wave of the hand, as if it answered the question, before finally popping the sweet into his mouth and Mycroft glared at the lips, for just a moment wishing that he would choke on the sweet. “You were right…This might not be boring…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that this is a romance…But the characters won’t behave and they keep jibing at each other…I think Mycroft is starting to understand his feelings though…


	14. Chapter 14

The Holmes brothers fell into an uneasy routine after that day. Each morning Sherlock would wake him. Mostly by sitting in the corner of his bed and staring at him until self-preservation meant that he woke and caught him. They would breakfast together, Mycroft would eat while coaxing Sherlock to have more than tea and then they would travel into London together. For two hours, a day Sherlock would be shut away in Bell’s office with him and then they would emerge looking quite cheerful and then vanish to who knew where for a few more hours. Sherlock would always return and sit with him at the end of a long day but would never say where he had been or what he had done. Mycroft could see a change in his brother though and whatever it was he and Bell got up to he was thankful for it even if he was having to fight his own mixed emotions daily. 

In the evening, Sherlock, could, more than often than not, be found in the kitchen with his eyes almost seemingly glued to the microscope and whatever creature or sample Bell had procured for him. Mycroft himself felt redundant but as his brother was doing well and even his mummy had remarked on it when she had made her weekly telephone calls he supposed that he should allow it to happen. His only issue was, or at least o he told himself to help him sleep better at night, Bell was not a young man and nor was in the best physical condition. No matter how much he pretended otherwise and Mycroft would hate for Sherlock to grow close to him and then for him to pass away. 

His worry only grew as the days passed into weeks and before either of them knew it December had arrived and Sherlock had been with him for over a month. Sherlock looked happier and healthier than he had done since Redbeard’s death and Mycroft had lost count of how many times he heard the name of his boss uttered, and that was what was happening that surprisingly chilly and frosty December morning. 

“Joseph has invited us to his home in Scotland for Christmas…I told him that we would be happy to go…” Sherlock informed him as Mycroft bit delicately into his toast and marmalade and he fixed his brother with a stare his head tilting slight to one side. “It’s not like we’re going home for Christmas…Mummy and Daddy are in Australia after all…”

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t be going so don’t pout Sherlock, but I am surprised that you are so eager…I thought that you had out grown sentimentality and Christmas several years ago,” Mycroft said with a roll of his shoulders and Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and slouched in his chair saying;

“Joseph said that I would be allowed to see his lab…”

“…What do you do together all day?” Mycroft asked suddenly finding it strange that he had never asked before “I can’t imagine what an elder man and a teen would have in common…” 

“…You would be surprised…We have a lot in common…More so than you and I do…Even if he isn’t as clever as you…” Mycroft felt his chest puff with pride at that begrudgingly muttered statement from his brother. “…Does is bother you that Joseph and I spend time together? Are you jealous?” 

“Don’t be stupid Sherlock, I was merely curious as to what a man as esteemed as Joseph Bell would find interesting in a recalcitrant teen…” Mycroft fell silent as an expression filtered over Sherlock’s face. It wasn’t there for long but it was enough to cause his stomach feel as though it had turned inside out. His mouth grew dry as he wondered if Bell would find his brother attractive.

The man was unmarried though there had been interoffice rumours of an affair some time ago in his past. Mycroft cared little for such gossip but currently he was searching his brain to try and find if he had heard a name or the mention of a name. None were forth coming and he was sure that he felt a muscle in his cheek pulse. His fingers clenched and he told himself that it was because Sherlock was his brother and it was his duty to take care of him, that it was what his parents would expect of him, but deep down in the darkest parts of his heart a voice, which annoyingly sounds a lot like Sherlock, it was because Sherlock was his. The thought was enough to make him shudder with the implications of it and he refused to allow Sherlock to know that he had that much power over him. At this moment in time though there was something else more pressing and he ground out softly “Sherlock...Has Bell been…Have you and Bell…”

“Have we fucked? What would you do if I said yes?” Sherlock asked with a carefully blank expression that gave nothing away and Mycroft moved faster than he had in his life grabbing Sherlock’s wrist and pulling him up so their faces were almost pressing together as he growled;

“Sherlock this isn’t one of your games…Tell me…” 

“…Don’t be so absurd, Mycroft, you’re the only one insane enough to find me desirable…” Sherlock announced and before Mycroft had time to react the distance between them was closing and Sherlock’s lips were pressed against his. They stayed still for a moment just resting there as though he had no idea what he was meant to do now and Mycroft knew that he should use this time to recover himself and push Sherlock away but that deep part of him refused to allow it and although his brought his arms up to push him away he instead gathered him closer and, as in all things, took control of the situation. His lips softened against Sherlock’s and his tongue lapped lightly at the seam encouraging him to open his mouth. Sherlock did so a little reluctantly and soon their kiss deepened. 

Mycroft lost himself in the kiss refusing to acknowledge the absurdity of it all. He was not the type of man to give into weakness of the flesh or desires of the heart and yet here he was standing in his kitchen kissing his brother. Sherlock’s hands gripped at his arms tightly as if he were terrified to let go and Mycroft found it endearing and his broke the kiss to look at him not surprised to see that he had paled considerably and his eyes were like that of any teen that was confused about what was happening. 

“…Sherlock…” Mycroft breathed his own voice foreign to his ears and slowly Sherlock blinked stumbling backwards and almost tripping over himself. He gave him another look and then he was gone vanishing out of the kitchen and leaving Mycroft to wonder what the hell had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh…Bugger…I honestly wanted this to be better but as hard as I tried this is the best that I could get it…>.


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock refused to speak to him after their brush in the kitchen and Mycroft was almost glad of it. He couldn’t deny that he had kissed his brother back and that he, if he had been given the chance, would have gone further. It was a madness and he knew that it was something deeply troubling for both parties but, later when they were pressed up together inside the back of the taxi, he couldn’t deny that he allowed his leg to brush up against Sherlock’s for a little longer than appropriate. Sherlock seemed to pretend not to notice but his body stiffened and he forced his eyes out of the car and onto the dull road beyond. When they arrived in the town Sherlock bolted out of the car and ran into the offices. Mycroft watched him go breathing deeply through his nose schooling himself into a passable blank expression before strolling forward. 

His feet clicked over the polished tiles and seemed to echo through his mind as surely as his heart had done when he had tasted Sherlock’s lips. Knowing that thoughts like that were dangerous here and he carefully pushed them away thinking only of the numbers that he had been working on yesterday. Once in the main bowels of the building he saw Sherlock with Bell. The pair looking as thick as thieves as though all troubling thoughts had left his brother while he was in the older man’s company and once again he wondered what the pair did together. He remembered the way in which Sherlock had acted when he had asked and he desperately tried to ignore the hot flush of jealousy that came with the thought. Bell’s hand rested on Sherlock’s shoulder leaning in close with his mouth almost against his ear and Mycroft found his feet moving towards the pair. Bell noticed him first his head cocking to one side as a smile formed on his face. 

“Ah, Mycroft…There you are…Sherlock has told me that you will be joining me this Christmas…” The man said and Mycroft nodded slowly remembering that he and Sherlock had spoken of it before the kiss and that he had agreed to it. 

“Yes, Sherlock sounded extremely by it, sir…” He hummed with a glance to Sherlock. The teen ignored him and haughtily looked away twin spots of colour appearing in his cheeks that he couldn’t quite hide. “And I am honoured by your request, sir…” 

“Indeed, happy to have you both, Sherlock will brighten the holiday I’m sure…” Bell glanced down at his watch startled and then hummed to Sherlock “We have to get going…Those bodies won’t dissect themselves…” 

“Bodies?” Mycroft asked and Bell gave a nod and a smile his finger touching to his nose while Sherlock gave a shrug that wasn’t quite nonchalant the colour reappearing in his face before they both hurried out of the office leaving Mycroft to stare in bewilderment after them. An assistant came out of Bell’s office carrying some papers and, although he normally stayed out of the gossip mill he couldn’t stop himself from asking “Where do they go together each day?”

“…Dr Bell doesn’t tell me such things…” The assistant who he couldn’t be bothered to remember his name said with a sharp scowl and Mycroft was given his first hint of how jealous some those in the office were of his brother’s relationship with Bell as the man said “It’s your brother he spends time with surely you would know more than we do…” 

“My brother doesn’t tell me any more than Bell tells you it seems…” Mycroft gave a blank smile and then nodded his head politely before going to his desk. Work offered respite from both his emotions towards Sherlock and from the puzzlement of what the pair got up to. 

When he finished his work for the day he was unsurprised but disappointed that Sherlock wasn’t waiting for him as he normally was. He powered down his computer and then switched off his personal light on his desk. As always, the office was almost completely deserted now and he made his way back out to the street. There was a chill in the air and the local weather reports had forecast snow during the night. Gritters were already out and about and already many of the buildings were coated in frost meaning that snow might be a possibility and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

Once he and Sherlock had enjoyed snow, they had even built a snowman once as their parents had insured them that it was something that other children did. It had lasted all of five minutes before Redbeard had crashed into the whole thing and caused it to come crumbling down around the red setter’s ears. Now snow meant delays, accidents and people bustling around looking grumpier than ever as they tried to get the must have item for their overly demanding offspring. He wondered if he should buy a gift for Sherlock. Perhaps a coat of his own might have been appropriate but his brother had successfully commandeered his and seemed to be in no great hurry to give it back. Mycroft wasn’t too bothered, it did look better on his brother after all and there only attachment he had to it was 

the way Sherlock looked in it. A coat would be no good but perhaps a scarf. One made of the softest cashmere and would bring out the colour in his eyes.   
Nobody would find it strange for him to buy his brother a scarf, surely, and it was clear that given the cold weather in Scotland such a gift would be needed even if he would be seeing it wrapped around Sherlock’s throat and wishing that it was his lips and hands. 

“Mr Holmes…” A voice said cutting through his imaginings and he turned surprised to see the PC that had picked up his brother the day after his arrival. The name was to unique to be forgettable and he mustered up a smile for the man who had been nice to his brother. 

“Constable Lestrade…Pleasure to see you again…It is always comforting to see our law enforcement on the street…” He said as charmingly as he could muster and Lestrade blinked slowly for a moment before deciding to ignore him as he asked;

“How’s young Sherlock? Settled down now has he?” 

“As far as I can tell yes, he hasn’t been arrested recently…I’m sorry, I was just on my way home…Good day…” Mycroft dipped his head and then moved forward to summon a taxi leaving the constable standing on the pavement as he went home to do battle with his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that this is okay :)


	16. Chapter 16

Mycroft entered his house surprised at the sound of music that was coming from within. His parents had decided long ago, or rather their mother had decided, that they should learn a musical instrument. Mycroft had settled for the piano but Sherlock had filtered through a lot of different types before he had seen a busker playing a violin. The man hadn’t been very good, at least to Mycroft’s ear but for Sherlock it had started a deep passion with the instrument and he had gotten good at it though he only played well when he was happy. Confusion or boredom brought about a horrible cat like wailing from the instrument. Now was the softest composition that he had ever heard played and he moved towards the sound without bothering to take off his coat. 

He found Sherlock and, to his surprise and mild disappointment, Bell sitting in the main sitting room. It appeared that the pair had enjoyed a meal together and Bell was sitting in Mycroft’s own chair watching Sherlock as he carefully drew his bow against the strings. Mycroft stared at Sherlock’s expression his stomach churning at the emotions that he could see there. Only in this moment with the music flowing through him would Sherlock be so emotional. It was as though his feelings were being pulled one by one from the strings and set loose in the air. It was magnificent, glorious, though the song had a sad tinge to it. The song died almost instantly the note cutting too sharply for it to be a natural end.  
“That’s as far as I’ve gotten…” The teen admitted and Bell clapped his hands a broad grin spread over his lips. 

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it Mycroft…I see even you were moved…” The older man said to him and Mycroft quickly schooled his expression so he could give a polite nod but Sherlock, who now turned to look at him, couldn’t see the array of emotions that must have been in his face when he had watched him play. 

“My brother’s playing has always been pleasing to me…More so when it is one of his own compositions…” He said levelly knowing that it was more of a compliment than he would have given before and Sherlock looked taken aback by his words and his cheeks flushed a little as he turned to study his shoes. Bell gave a chuckle and then slowly pulled himself up from the chair placing down a china cup into the saucer. 

“Thank-you Sherlock for indulging an old man but I should be going now…I fear that you will be sick of seeing me…” He said with a nod dressing himself in his coat and hat before walking to the door passed him “Mycroft, walk me out…” 

“Yes, sir…” Mycroft nodded giving Sherlock a look before turning on his heel and following the older man down the hall wondering if his brother had told him of his actions that morning or if Bell has guessed that he and Sherlock were truly unlike normal brothers. His worst fears seemed to be confirmed when Bell paused at the door and fixed him with a steady stare. His icy blue eyes peered at him down his wonky nose and Mycroft tried to think of everything but that morning until Bell sighed and hummed;

“Sherlock seemed a little distracted today…I thought that it was best to stay with him until you returned…He wouldn’t explain to me what was wrong so I hope that you will have more success with him…” 

“I doubt that, my brother and I rarely have heart to hearts…” Mycroft said allowing himself to relax even if only slightly and his boss reached over and tapped him on the shoulder saying;

“Maybe you should start? Sherlock respects you even if he has difficulty in showing that…I should leave you now…I shall see you tomorrow, young Mycroft…” The man gave him another smile and then tipped his hat to him before sweeping out of the house and down the driveway. Mycroft watched him until he was out of sight and then pulled off his coat and slid the deadbolt across the door. Preparing himself to do battle he sucked in a breath and then when to deal with Sherlock. 

His brother was in the sitting room fiddling around with his violin and bow with a faraway look in his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice his arrival and Mycroft poured himself a whisky and then after only half a moment’s hesitation poured Sherlock one as well knowing that they were both going to need it before the evening was done.  
“Sherlock…Here…” He hummed pushing the drink into his brother’s hand before dropping down into the chair opposite him. A fire crackled and popped at their side and Sherlock fixed him with an assessing stare for a moment or two. He looked like he was about to say something smart or condescending about the drink and the fact that Mycroft had been the one to give it him but in the end his inclined his head and drank from it a little. “…Bell was right…You played beautifully tonight…It wasn’t a piece that I recognised…You composed it recently?”

“…While I have been staying here…Mycroft…Don’t treat me like I’m a fool, you and I both know…” Sherlock paused and frowned drinking some more of his whisky before continuing in a voice that couldn’t even be counted as a whisper “…We know that we can’t ignore what happened this morning…I kissed you…” 

“…And I kissed you back…What happened this morning was as much my doing as it was yours Sherlock…I wanted it…” Mycroft breathed wondering why it seemed so much easier now. Sherlock looked at him with his eyes wide and his mouth partially opened before he blinked rapidly and drained the rest of his drink. “We are not like others you and I…” 

“But…We’ve never been this strange…Surely you know wrong this is…” Sherlock said with a wave if his bow and Mycroft shrugged delicately his tongue running over his lips as he too drained his drink and then went to pour himself another. 

“…Who else would understand you? Who else would understand me…” He said staring at his reflection in the amber liquid he had just poured. “…I have thought of nothing but this since this morning, Sherlock...Perhaps we were always meant to be this way you and I…You have to admit there has always been rather intense emotions between us…And you are the only person who sparks emotions within me…” 

“…And now…Now you want…To fuck me?” 

“…Must you always be so crude?” Mycroft sighed turning to look at Sherlock surprised that he had moved to stand so close to him. His face was almost porcelain whine and his lips were somewhat bruised from where he had been chewing on them. The nearness was starling but Mycroft didn’t move away from it. “Isn’t that what you want me to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! 59 Kudos and so many subscriptions to this story xD It makes me so happy!


	17. Chapter 17

Mycroft watched Sherlock’s face deciding that it was the most animated that it had been since they were children. It was oddly beautiful in its uncertainty and Mycroft was sure that a part of his brother wanted to laugh and say that he had been joking with their shared kiss. It was perhaps the only thing that would bring them back from the brink this night. Sherlock’s mouth opened, his breath coming out in a hiss for a moment before it snapped closed and his head jerked into a shaky little nod. 

“…Not tonight…Not…Now…I’m not ready for our relationship to become so physical…” Sherlock breathed gently looking so fidgety it was almost endearing and Mycroft found himself reaching to take his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “…I believe that in most courtships a period is set…” 

“Sherlock, ordinarily I would enjoy your logical brain but right now…Shall we try to go with feelings?” Mycroft didn’t spit out the word the way he would do normally but allowed it to slip out even though Sherlock’s mouth twisted into a judging smirk and Mycroft quickly continued lest he lose track of what it was that he wanted to say “…I agree with you that I am not ready to be intimate with you either...But I am willing to admit that I want to sleep with you…”

“So, we…You’re saying…That we just wait and see how this goes between you and I? Like a chemical reaction?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft found himself playing with Sherlock’s fingers. 

“Indeed, if that is how you want to think of it…” He nodded knowing that it was better for them both to think of it in that way, given that neither of them cared for the emotional side of things. It was best that all things were given a scientific approach. “…We both acknowledge that we have shared feelings that we will want to explore in the future but for now let us just see how it goes…” 

“…Then…We have an agreement…I suppose that you want to kiss me now?” 

“…Yes, I suppose that I do…” Mycroft admitted. He had been thinking of their kiss all morning and he wasn’t opposed to having another one though he did hate that Sherlock looked unenthusiastic about it all. “But…If you don’t wish for it then I will have something to eat and head to bed…” Mycroft half-turned about to walk away when Sherlock grabbed his arm and pulled him back “Sherlock?” 

“Just kiss me already…” Sherlock growled his face rapidly turning a warm pink as he looked down at the floor. His feet shuffled against the floor and Mycroft gave a smile his hand moving to cup at the cheek that only held the touch of a few hairs. It still felt as soft as when he was younger and Mycroft took a step forward to press a light kiss to the corner of his brother’s mouth and then his lower lip. Sherlock was as still as statue his eyes blinking quickly as he allowed him to do as he liked. Mycroft gave a small tut not happy with the nonresponsive attitude and nipped at the lip his mouth was against. Sherlock took a sharp breath his eyes growing dark before he huffed “I said kiss not bite…” 

“…I don’t want to kiss a statue Sherlock…You have to work with me…” Mycroft responded his lips still against Sherlock’s. His brother gave another frown but his lips softened moulding gently against his and Mycroft smiled kissing him properly this time. There was no tongue this time but their mouths did open deepening the kiss as their bodies locked together. Mycroft wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s back and pulled him even closer taking full advantage of his extra height to tilt Sherlock backwards. The younger man gripped tightly at his arms a moan escaping his mouth around Mycroft’s lips. It was awkward, clumsy, and decidedly uncoordinated but Mycroft couldn’t get enough of it and it was with great reluctance he pulled away. Sherlock’s eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was to still positioned in a kiss and Mycroft ran his thumb over them wiping away the spittle. “You are precious to me…” 

“…What would mummy say? I know that she wanted us to get on but this…If they found out…” 

“Nobody will find out…Brother mine, we are the smartest two people in the whole of the UK collectively we could surpass anyone that we choose…Do you think that we wouldn’t be able to pull the wool over Mummy’s eyes…And if she did…Leave it to me…I’ll take care of it, I will take care of everything…” Mycroft sighed honestly not wanting to discuss their mother directly after the fact. He knew that Sherlock would panic a little after the fact. It was a common problem with his brother he always looked before he leaped and he this was very much one of those times but he wouldn’t allow it to effect what they were moving into. 

“This isn’t a scratch that you can put a plaster over and soothe away my tears…” 

“I am well aware of that Sherlock, thank-you, but I have made up my mind, I want you and you want me…There is nothing else for it…If mummy and father ever find out…Leave it to me, I will sort everything out…” Mycroft assured him and Sherlock fixed him with a stare that was almost reminiscent of one Bell would give him every now and then and for a moment Mycroft grew nervous. While not as intelligent as he and Sherlock Bell wasn’t an idiot and it would be a great test of their skill at hiding their relationship when they were forced to winter in his home. “...Sherlock…If you are truly worried about this then tell me now…As you say this is a great risk…If found out about our lives would change dramatically…You might escape most of the blame as you are yet a child…”

“I’m not child, I know what I want…” 

“Indeed, but that is not how the world would see it Sherlock…” Mycroft said carefully knowing that his brother wouldn’t be able to imagine it. Sherlock wasn’t the type of man to worry what others would think of him “A troubled young teen taken in by his big brother who seduces him, I know all of this and I have decided that I want to go through with it regardless but you might not have the same mind set as me…” He looked at Sherlock carefully as the younger boy’s face retreated to the same scowl that he was familiar with as he said;

“You hardly seduced me...I want this as much as you…” 

“Good…Then allow me to kiss you again...” Almost as soon as he was done talking his lips were back on Sherlock kissing him sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously even now their personalities get in the way...I seriously hope that this is okay and they don't seem too out of character >.


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning when he woke to find Sherlock sitting on the end of his bed he found himself not caring as much. He smiled and reached over the bed, his hand taking Sherlock’s and held it tightly within his own. His thumb moved over the back of the hand Mycroft gave a sleepy smile that was met by a sour scowl that was only softened by the nervous hint that was in Sherlock’s eyes. 

“Do you ever sleep?” He asked tugging the teen over the bed until he was flat on his back beside him. He was as stiff as a board but Mycroft allowed a lazy arm to wrap around his waist. He was surprised at how easy he found the intimacy between him and his brother. It was clear though that Sherlock wasn’t as comfortable with it even though he didn’t move away as he might have done if he were truly against being held. 

“Not as much as you do…You snore…” Sherlock huffed out and Mycroft chuckled a little pressing his nose and mouth into the join of Sherlock’s neck. He had known that a change in their relation wouldn’t mean a change in Sherlock’s attitude towards him and he would have been disappointed if there were. A harsh line between them both would protect them from suspicion. Sherlock’s somewhat tattered t-shirt had lifted on his side revealing a patch of creamy skin that was slightly too pale to be healthy and Mycroft couldn’t stop himself from stroking over the patch of skin. Goosepimples formed and quickly and for a moment Mycroft hesitated on the skin wondering if Sherlock would use this to push him away but he didn’t and Mycroft allowed his fingers to continue to move as he replied;

“…I imagine that I do...” 

“You also sort of snuffle like a pig…It’s ugly…” Sherlock grunted with his arms folding over his chest and a pout forming on his lips and Mycroft chuckled delighting that he had a new way of rubbing on his brother’s nerves. 

“And yet you continue watch me sleep…” He hummed softly shuffling forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek “I wonder who that says something about…” 

“You smell like the back end of a dog…” Sherlock growled pushing him away now colour creeping into his features even as he tried to remain in control. Mycroft laughed and got up from the bed walking to the bedroom oddly aware that Sherlock’s eyes were on him. He turned just a little and realised that he was being appraised rather like cattle at a market. It was something that give him a lot of self-doubt. He understood he already had a lot of soft edges and there was rather more wobble in his walk than was probably attractive but when he caught Sherlock’s eyes there was something deeply happy in the sight of him. Mycroft raised an eyebrow and Sherlock huffed grinding out an almost bitter sounding “If I were interested in your looks I wouldn’t have…I wouldn’t be interested in you…” 

“…We can’t all look like you brother dear…” Mycroft replied knowing that it wasn’t much of a comeback but it was all that he could think of in the spur of the moment. Once settled in his bathroom he stripped out of his sleepwear and stepped naked into the shower.

The hot water cascaded down his body and he tilted his face upward into the spray allowing it to soak into his hair and down his neck. He was sure that he heard the door of the bathroom open but he chose to ignore it and focused on washing down his body. He jolted in surprise when cold hands came and soaped up his back but he said nothing allowing Sherlock to do as much or as little as he liked. He had gotten his feelings across and learned of Sherlock’s. From now on all he could do when allow Sherlock to make the next move. 

The hands moved down to the very small of his back and then came back up making smaller circular motions before coming up to his neck. Fingers brushed against the nape of his neck and then his ears before moving to touch at his clavicle. It wasn’t an area that he would have thought was sensitive but with Sherlock touching him there it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. Mycroft released a noise and the hands vanished, retreating as quickly as they had come, leaving the elder to turn and look at the younger. Sherlock was staring at his hands as though they were foreign and separate from himself. “Sherlock…” 

“…Just…Allow me a few moments…” Sherlock breathed cutting off further conversation as he turned on his heel and fled the bathroom and Mycroft sighed as he watched him go flinching at the sound of the door slamming behind him. Finishing up in the shower he pulled on a dressing gown and brushed his teeth in the wash basin. A few minutes into proceedings he heard the sound of the telephone and he frowned when after only a few rings it was answered “Hello? Mycroft Holmes…Mummy…How are you?”

Mycroft sighed at the cute voice that Sherlock had put on for the sake of their dear mother. It was false and something that anyone with a lick of common sense would see-through in a moment but their mother, for all her intelligence, wanted to believe that Sherlock was as normal and dull as she was and she was prepared to explain away much of his eccentricities in the same way that she tried to do for him, when he would allow it. He finished with his teeth and then made his way out of the bathroom to his bedroom where he found Sherlock holding the phone away from his ear as their mother rattled on about mindless twaddle that nobody but she and their father cared about. 

“Yes, yes, that sounds wonderful…Here’s Mycroft, I’m sure that he can’t wait to give you a progress report…” Sherlock said cutting over something about line dancing and shoving the phone into his chest. Mycroft glared a little in his direction but held the phone to his ear. 

“Hello, mummy…How are you? How is your trip?”

“Mike…Everything here is wonderful darling…How are you holding up with Sherlock?” 

“Mycroft…” Mycroft corrected wondering for the umpteenth time why she had given him his name if she couldn’t see it through until the end. “Things are going swimmingly…As you might imagine…” 

“See I told you…You are the only person Sherlock will listen too…” Mummy said down the line and Mycroft glanced at his brother who gave him a blank stare that was dulled by the redness of his cheeks and neck “He does look up to you so…” 

“Yes, I’m sure he does, I have to go now…” 

“Oh…Right…Okay, Mycroft…Give my love to Sherlock…And keep some for yourself…” 

“Yes…Yes…” Mycroft barely listened to the gushing goodbyes as he lowered the phone into the cradle and then pulled a face at Sherlock who rolled his eyes in return as understanding “Breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay if anyone was waiting…I was sorting my house out for Christmas…I really hope that this isn’t too dull >.


	19. Chapter 19

“Sherlock…What do you do with Bell all day?” Mycroft asked as he fixed them both a light breakfast. There was little chance that Sherlock would even eat a quarter of it but there was always hope. Sherlock cast him a look his eyes searching his face while an eyebrow rose all on its own. A somewhat playful smirk formed on his lips as he rolled his shoulders in a non-delicate shrug saying;

“…Nothing much…He teaches me science and anatomy…Why? Are you still jealous?”

“Not jealous…Just curious…You never answered me yesterday…” Mycroft hummed somewhat thoughtfully and Sherlock fell silent as they both knew that the reason there was no explanation was because they had finally given in to their darkest thoughts and feelings. “…As for science I imagined that you would know everything that you needed to by now…”

“…What was you said to me once? A great mind never stops learning or seeking information…Besides…What Bell teaches is truly amazing…Not like the useless stuff that the teachers at school insist I should learn…Who cares who killed who on what day…? When will that ever be important?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft half smiled remembering a time when he had gone to a parents’ evening with his father. The teacher had told the frantically that Sherlock wouldn’t pay attention and wouldn’t even grace them with his presence. Sherlock had then proceeded to list almost everything important from the classes that the teacher had taught before asking rather loudly what was the point of it all before he announced that he would just delete it from his mind. If there was everything that he was proud of having a hand in developing it was Sherlock’s mind palace. He gave a chuckle and sipped his Earl Grey before placing marmalade on some toast saying;

“Granted history may be a little dry Sherlock…But those who forget the past are always doomed to repeat it…”

“…And that’s why we have historians…I am never going to be one so why should I learn it?” Sherlock asked with a huff surprising Mycroft by taking a large bit of toast and crunching it between his teeth and staring at him with a fixed expression in his blue green eyes. Mycroft held the stare positively delighted that he was having so much of a conversation with his brother. It had been a long time since he had it and he wanted to maintain it, if he could. “It doesn’t interest me in the least…”

“And what does interest Sherlock Holmes? You say that things are uninteresting so easily Sherlock but you never say what is interesting…” He pointed out and like before he expected Sherlock to retreat into himself and scowl but instead he looked away for just a moment chewing on his toast before swallowing it down and looking back up at him again.

“Crime…” Sherlock breathed his eyes sparking as somebody else’s would about puppies or kittens and Mycroft had to admit there was a chill which ran down his spine at the words. There was no doubt in his mind that Sherlock would be a master criminal if he decided to turn his hand to it. “Murder…”

“…Crime? And murder? Sherlock if you’re going to go on a spree, I do hope that you will inform me first…” Mycroft said dryly and Sherlock rolled his eyes dropping down the toast into the plate as he huffed;

“That’s rich…I tell you that I’m interested in crime and you automatically assume that I will be the villain…I wonder why you like me if that’s the case”

“You did once want to be a pirate brother dear, and I can’t imagine that you will be the type for police work…” Mycroft replied with a twitch of the lips at the semi-casual mention of the change in their relationship. It was subtle but it was there along with the increased conversation that they had achieved that morning. After the incident in the shower, something that neither of them had addressed thus far, he had expected Sherlock to retreat into himself more so than usual but it appeared that with the shifting of their relationship Sherlock was feeling more confident in conversing with him and he hoped that there would be an increase in conversation and perhaps more in the coming days. Sherlock let out a sigh that could have passed for a huff as he said;

“…You’re right…I don’t want to work for the police…Too much boring paperwork…”

“…Then MI5?” Mycroft asked knowing that there was no way that he would be able to relax if Sherlock said yes. Although the public had an unfavourable view of MI5 there were still some parts that the public didn’t know and he didn’t even want to picture his precious brother being in danger without him being able to protect him.

“…Politics and espionage are not my area either Mycroft, that is your dream not mine and you are very much welcome to it…” Sherlock muttered looking down at the table again before muttering “I want to be a detective…”

“A detective? As in Miss Marple? Or Poirot?” He hummed remembering that he had brought his brother the books once when they were trapped in a rather dull cottage in Wales. It had been a rather sad attempt at a traditional family holiday. Sherlock had been bored to tears after almost four hours and Mycroft had rather reluctantly led him on an adventure to the nearest village. The place had been sparse of interest but there had been a book fare in the local church. Sherlock had offended the vicar in all of five minutes, a personal best for even his surly brother but they had left with their prize. Of course, Mycroft had had to carry the books the two miles back to the cottage but at least Sherlock had stopped pouting and devoured the books with great interest. “I can’t imagine you taking up the art of knitting or growing a fine moustache…Is this interest because of the missing shoes…The ones at the swimming pool last year? Mummy said that you were rather distracted by it…She thought that you were upset…”

“Upset? Why would I have been upset?” Sherlock asked completely baffled at the very suggestion of being upset and Mycroft had to admit that he himself had been confused by it and just rolled his shoulders and said the same thing his mother had;

“A boy of your age…”

“…I didn’t know him…I was just curious as to where his shoes were…It didn’t make sense…Nobody would listen to me though…” Sherlock chewed almost cutely on his lip as he stared at the remains of his toast as though it were personally responsible for nobody taking the calls of a child seriously. Mycroft checked his watch and then carefully got up from the table to move around to stand beside Sherlock. The teen looked up at him in confusion for a moment and then licked his lips in anticipation of the kiss that followed. It was shorter than those they had shared last night but Mycroft was sure that it was more relaxed on Sherlock’s part. “Do I have your approval?”

“…Do you need it?” Mycroft asked playing around with the fine hairs on the back of Sherlock’s neck before kissing him once more and adding “You will do whatever you want to do regardless of my opinion or approval…So, pursue it if it interests you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that this is okay,


	20. Chapter 20

Mycroft settled himself into his chair staring at the well-lit fire which was crackling and popping in the grate. Sparks went up the chimney and he sighed with a little stab of something close to happiness. A phone call an hour or so before had given him a rare, and unexpected day off, the storm having caused so much delay that the office was closed though he had been encouraged to work on the files that he had brought home the night before. Sherlock had stayed in the kitchen sulkily trying to contact Bell for something to do and Mycroft half-hoped that the old man would tell his brother to have a rest for the day the other half hoped that Sherlock wouldn’t be too frustrated locked away here. 

“Mycroft…Are you going to sit there all day?” Sherlock asked now interrupting his thoughts and Mycroft pulled his eyes up from the sight of the fire so that he could look at his brother who was standing in the doorway with one hand resting against the frame. He was dressed for the outdoors wearing, Mycroft noted rather irritably, his woollen coat and gloves. “If you’re not too busy you could come with me…” 

“And…Where would you be headed?” He asked with a half-smile and Sherlock shrugged muttering;

“…Out…” 

“…That is not a destination…” 

“Just out…For a walk…?”

“…A walk…? In this weather…?” Mycroft motioned to the stained-glass windows where a flurry of snow was cascading down through the mix of red and green. The outdoors held little appeal to him on warm sunny days and even less on blustery wintery days such as this. He couldn’t understand the appeal of trudging through the snow and have it ruining his trousers and shoes but Sherlock sighed rolling his shoulders as he replied;

“I wasn’t planning on a hike…But if you would rather not come then just say so…I thought that perhaps you might enjoy going with me but it seems that you’re rather too lazy…It does make one wonder…” 

“Makes one wonder what, brother mine?” The eldest of the Holmes brother asked his eyes racking up and down Sherlock’s body finding the image of the coat much more appealing that he had before. 

“…If you would even be able to sleep with me…When…When we’ve reached that stage in…This…” Sherlock’s voice trailed off the confident edge slipping away as his cheeks grew hotter and his eyes grew nervous. Mycroft knew that he should be offended by the slight but his happiness that Sherlock was even considering the next level in their relationship. “Are you going to come or not?”

“…I will join you in your stroll…But since you have stolen my coat I shall have to find something else to wear…” Sherlock didn’t even have the decency to look bashful and just rolled his shoulders in a shrug brushing his fingers down the length of the coat. “Give me a few minutes…” 

“…Hurry up, Mycroft…I will be waiting for you in the kitchen garden…” Sherlock turned on his heel and walked away leaving Mycroft to stare mournfully at his fire before getting up from his comfortable chair and walking to the staircase. 

He didn’t have many clothes that would be suitable for traipsing around the country in the snow but thankfully he was a member of the aristocracy and there were some traditions that he had to take part in no matter how stupid he thought they were and he did have some casual clothes and once squirreled away in the bedroom he pulled them on before taking out his boots from storage. The process didn’t take very long but he felt particularly foolish while pulling on a thick woollen jumper. Once satisfied he made his way back down stairs and hurried through the kitchen.

It had been a long time since the Holmes manor had a true Kitchen garden filled with herbs and other such vegetation but there was still a well-marked out square which was lovingly maintained by the elderly gardener, who came in a few times a week, and Mycroft could easily see where Sherlock had walked although his footsteps were being quickly wiped clean by the fluff white puffs of snow. Shivering near violently he stepped out into the cold. 

Wind whipped around at his face as he trudged forward his feet crunching through the snow. He was mildly irritated by Sherlock going ahead of him but he was cut short when he found Sherlock standing like a statue in the garden. His head was tilted back looking up at the sky with his hands up in front of him looking completely bewitched as the flakes gathered on his fingers wrapped warmly in his gloves. His hair had already gathered snow and was looking curler in ever around his face. His nose had gone a bright pink as had his cheeks and Mycroft stopped walking just so he could stare at him. For all his pomp and attitude Sherlock was still very much a child about some things and Mycroft berated himself for not realising that his brother would be excited about a snow storm. Mycroft continued walking forward and came to a stop in front of Sherlock who blinked slowly, a snowflake clinging to one of his eyelashes. He blinked it away and smiled a little wider. Mycroft smiled in return and then brought his hand up to brush way the snowflake. For some inexplicable reason, he found himself bringing it to his lips and allowing it to melt there. “…You have become a fool, Mycroft…”

“Perhaps, brother mine, but only you will know of it…For you are the only one that I will show that too...” 

“Aren’t I the lucky one?” Sherlock bit back sarcastically but Mycroft could tell that he was pleased by the flush which coloured his skin. “Come on…If you can keep up…” 

“I would much rather us have a destination in mind before wandering off into the snow…” Mycroft sighed although his traitorous legs began walking on their own following the figure of his brother who had already turned away from him and was making his way through the snow. 

“…You know the grounds of the house as well as I do, brother dear…” Sherlock said over his shoulder “If you can tell me where we are going I will give you a reward…” 

“And if I don’t?” Mycroft asked knowing his brother too well to agree straight away and Sherlock paused turning to look at him with a teasing expression on his face purring;

“…Then you have to give me anything that I ask for…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it's rare in England to get snow like this unless you're up north but I love the idea of Sherlock in the snow and couldn't wait for them to get to Scotland with Bell, I hope that this is okay...^_^


	21. Chapter 21

“The west pond?” Mycroft offered out around half an hour later when they had wandered through what was left of the grounds that made up the Holmes homestead. It was only a third of the size that it had been in its heyday but there were still vast amounts of it left. It had been Sherlock’s playground when they had been forced to attend the Season by their elderly grandmother. The old bat had thankfully died early leaving them free to do as they liked although Mycroft had somewhat kept abreast of the social graces as much as he could. Though he had kept himself thoroughly out of sight of match making mothers and over eager fathers. He had always told himself that it was merely because he didn’t have time for a relationship, now though…Now he realised that it was because he didn’t want soft nubile bodies and simpering conversation, he wanted hard sharp lines and sharp wit. In short, he wanted his brother and only him. “Sherlock, are we heading to the west pond?”

“Nope, Mycroft…You have lived here long than I have, why are you so clueless about the grounds?” Sherlock asked with more enjoyment on his face than Mycroft considered appropriate but he refused to comment on it. The smile that was tugging at Sherlock’s mouth was one that he hadn’t seen in a while and he refused to be the one that let it slip away. 

“I rarely have time to traipse around in the garden, brother mine, or do you perhaps imagine me riding a lawn mower…?” Mycroft asked in a dry voice shivering just a little as he looked out of the frozen landscape that was before him. He hated the snow but had admire the way that it changed the surrounding grounds into something else. 

“I rarely imagine you doing anything besides shuffling papers in a dingy office but I did think that you might wander the grounds occasionally even if it was to trim the fat around your middle…” 

“…Sherlock, I can happily leave you here…” Mycroft growled ungracefully, the remark about his weight cutting more than he would admit if only because he had been trying his best to curb his eating habits. It was true that he had never been as active as Sherlock was and never would be but it would have been nice if Sherlock remarked on his efforts instead of his waistline. 

“That is hardly a threat Mycroft, you’ve admitted yourself already that you probably wouldn’t be able to make it back to the house without me…Our footsteps have already been covered by the snow…” Sherlock pointed out stopping walking so they were standing together in the middle of the grounds. “Anyway…We are already where I wanted to be…” 

“...We’re in the middle of a field…” Mycroft sighed looking around again and seeing nothing but white. The snow had ceased somewhat but the whiteness of the ground and the sky left him feeling snow blind and he had to admit that Sherlock was right he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to the house and he couldn’t believe that Sherlock had found what he was looking for out here in the middle of a field. “If you’re just going to cheat then there is no point in playing games with you…” 

“…I didn’t cheat, this is truthfully where I wanted to be…Somehow I assumed that you would recognise it…But it seems that you don’t…” Sherlock seemed to give a full-face pout and then crouched down. He bit on the forefinger of his gloves and then dipped his hands into the snow. It was only then that Mycroft remembered;

“This is where we scattered Redbeard…” 

“…Congratulations but you’re too late…I won…” Sherlock hummed scooping back the snow to revel the stone that he himself had carved. It wasn’t a masterpiece, in fact he was sure that it was just some scratches that he had dug into an old stone but it had helped his brother during his grief. “…I am not being sentimental…Redbeard was sick and putting him down was the best thing…” 

“He was very sick, Sherlock…” Mycroft agreed placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Sherlock stayed silent for a moment his fingers ghosting over the stone for a few minutes until they had gone a very bright pink. “Sherlock, your hand is freezing…My toes are freezing, we should go back to the house…” 

“I’m done anyway…” Sherlock stood back up and then kicked snow back over the stone. Mycroft expected his brother to appear upset but his face was quite peaceful and there was a smile on his lips. He wiped his hand on his trousers and then slipped it back in the glove. Mycroft studied Sherlock’s face a little bit longer and then gave a smile his hand coming up to caress his face. “Your hands are freezing…Why don’t you have any gloves?” 

“You’re wearing them…They were in my coat…Is there anything that you don’t want to wear of mine?” Mycroft asked as they started to walk back the way that they had come. Sherlock was staying in step with him and somehow Mycroft was given the impression that Sherlock would have taken his hand if he had courage as he muttered dryly;

“…Your uptight suits? The umbrella that you almost always carry around…Those shoes that squeak when you walk…” 

“Okay, I get it…You just wish to steal my gloves and coat…” Mycroft found himself chuckling as Sherlock started to pull off the gloves saying;

“…If you’re that bothered you can take them back…” 

“And have your hands frozen, I would rather not…” Mycroft pushed the gloves back into his brother’s chest “You shall just have to buy me some more when we attend Bell’s Christmas gathering…” 

“Do you imagine that it will be…Overly Christmassy…Like those that mummy tried to do? I couldn’t bear it if we were forced into gaudy Christmas jumpers…” Sherlock shuddered at the very idea of it all and Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh at the look of horror that had now crossed over his brother’s face. 

“I couldn’t possibly tell you, you spend more time with him than I do…Evaluate, remember what you know of him and assess...Given all you know about him do you imagine him to be as bad as mummy?”

“…I don’t know, Mycroft, he’s harder to assess than you think…He may surprise us all and come out dressed as Father Christmas…” 

“…The horror, if that were the case…” Mycroft said trying to picture the most dangerous man in the UK dressed as father Christmas and failing “…At least you have me and I have you, I am sure that we will be able to keep each other sane around other people…” 

“Is that what we do Mycroft? Keep each other sane? I rather thought we brought out the madness in each other…” The younger Holmes breathed softly looking down at the snow “…I do not regret it…But you can’t claim that it’s sanity Mycroft…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the Holmes’ in love rather takes away from their personalities a little in show…I justify it to myself by saying they are both young >.< So I'm sorry if they're too much out of character


	22. Chapter 22

Mycroft closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to soothe away the tension headache that had formed in his temples. It was a sickly pain that had been there almost all day and he knew that he could name it Sherlock. It had been three days since he had traipsed around in the snow with his brother and Sherlock had been almost completely silent with him. Of course, he had known that starting a relationship with somebody like his brother wouldn’t be all sweetness and light but he had hoped that they would have smother moments together. Sherlock hadn’t even issued his demands for winning the game between them. At first, he had been dreading it, almost terrified of what ridicules thing his brother would dream up to ask of him, now he longed for it as it would at least break the icy tension that had somehow formed. 

“Mycroft, a word in your ear?” Bell’s voice said suddenly and Mycroft pulled his eyes open to look up at the face that was hosting a kindly smile and bright blue eyes that appeared to be reading his very soul. 

“Ah yes sir, is it about Sherlock? I apologise…”

“Before making your well-rehearsed apologies, you should hear me out…it's not your brother that concerns me, Mycroft, I can handle stubborn boys…just come with me…Eh?” Bell smiled and slowly Mycroft nodded following him into his little office. To his surprise, Sherlock wasn't inside as he normally was. The assistant that who had been Sour to him was standing to almost attention at the desk and his eyes were somewhat hostile as the glanced his way. Mycroft was glad that the young man in front of him was a mere assistant and not one of the many spies Bell employed or state secrets would have been sold in a matter of moments and Britain would fall all in time for tea. “I sent young Sherlock away for an hour, so we might talk, please take a seat…” Bell said with a polite wave of the hand. “Would you care for some tea or coffee?” 

“Tea would be very much welcomed, sir” If he were being perfectly honest, he really didn't want to drink anything that might aggravate the ache in his head but he couldn't resist the urge to have the uptight little man serve him. 

“Sotheby, two afternoon teas, and a plate of biscuits…” Bell told the assistant who respectfully bowed his head before exiting the office the sneer on his face unmistakable as he passed Mycroft’s chair. Mycroft gave him a perfectly bland smile in return. Bell chuckled as the door closed behind Sotheby and then sat down on his desk with his arms folded over his chest asking “You wonder why I keep him around? When his disdain is so obvious…”

“One can't help but wonder” Mycroft answered, somewhat reluctantly, his eyes face going blank. Twinkling blue eyes moved slowly over his face for what felt like an age before he blinked slowly and deliberately before he hummed;

“Because he is so blatantly readable, if he were to betray me I would know instantly…You would be impossible to read…Which leads me to why I called you here…” Mycroft sat a little straighter in his chair his eyes narrowing. His anticipation would have to wait however as the door opened once more and Sotheby came back carrying a silver tray. “Ah Sotheby, very prompt…” Bell got to his feet and then dragged his chair around the desk so he would be facing him without the desk being between them. “Pour the tea and then leave…” 

“Yes, sir…” Sotheby replied with as much politeness as he could muster. He set a strainer over the gold rimmed china cups. Mycroft watched him carefully his mind thinking, through the ache that was still behind his temples, of how much this man’s hands differed from Sherlock’s. His brothers were long and graceful in their movements while these were short and somewhat pudgy. They moved clumsily as the made the tea. It really wasn’t something that he should be thinking about here in the presence of his boss but with Sherlock being so distant again he was sure that he was drifting more and more inappropriate thoughts. 

“Only one lump of sugar for me thank-you, it has been brought to my attention that I have an ever-increasing waistline that I would like to manage…” Mycroft said dryly turning his eyes to Bell as he pushed thoughts of Sherlock as far from his mind as possible. 

“Indeed…Sherlock’s remarks can be very cutting can’t they…?” Bell chuckled as though he too had been on the receiving end of more than a few choice words from his brother. “…Just a slice of lemon, thank-you, Sotheby” 

“Very good sir…” Sotheby muttered cutting a slice of lemon and dropping it skilfully into the cup before handing over the cup. “Will there be anything else sir?”

“No thank-you, Sotheby, if young Sherlock reappears before Mycroft has left entertain him for a while…” Bell’s eyes twinkled merrily and Mycroft felt almost a pang of sympathy for the other man. Sotheby, clearly not understanding what fate awaited him if he were left alone together smiled as he walked out of the room and Bell sighed “…The man is insufferable though…” 

“…Indeed...” Mycroft gave a genuine smile and then picked up his cup sipping at the tea “He makes a good drink however…” 

“I suppose that he does, Mycroft…I’m sure that you’re eager to know why I summoned you in here?”

“I admit that I am curious, Sir…” 

“…You are aware that I have cancer? Of course, you do, you’re brighter even than Sherlock, what you don’t know is just how long they have given me…Well the answer, the best that they can get these things, is two years…Give or take a few months…” Bell informed him in the same manner that someone might order an extra slice of toast and Mycroft blinked slowly “…There is no reason for you to look so shocked, it is the judgement that I have received and the one that I must accept…” 

“Have you told Sherlock? He has grown rather attached to you…” Mycroft said quickly easily imagining Sherlock looking the way that he had done when he had informed him that Redbeard was sick. Sherlock gave a great pretence at being in control of his emotions but the truth of the matter was that he simply didn’t know how to handle them. 

“…Sherlock is aware that I’m sick but not how long I have left and I would rather it remain that way…” 

“Sir, with all due respect, you don’t know my brother the way that I do…”

“Perhaps but that is my wish and not the reason that I called you in here…You are to be my successor…For what time I have left you shadow me, understand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm….I hope that this was okay :) Wow! 20 subscriptions and 77 kudos :) thank-you to everyone that has liked this work :) I promise that there will be some smooth moments for them :)


	23. Chapter 23

Before Mycroft could answer the door was rather unceremoniously thrown open and Sherlock came in hurrying in followed by a rather harried looking Sotheby. The man spluttered and stammered for a moment or two about not being able to cope and Bell shooed him away with a hand, as though he were an irritating fly that had chosen to bother them. 

“How do you put up with him puttering around like an overstuffed bore?” Sherlock asked draping himself over a cabinet and pouting as though he were expecting to offered a place on the next cover of vogue. “He said that you were busy but you’re only talking to Myc’”

“Mycroft…” Mycroft corrected his eyes narrowing on his brother suspiciously trying to see if he was high or just putting on a front in front of Bell. His pupils were normal though his eyes were icy as they glanced at him. “And if you were told that why did you come flouncing in here as though you owned it?”

“…It’s quite all right, we were finished anyway, correct Mycroft?” Bell’s icy blue eyes turned to him as if daring him to say anything to Sherlock. Mycroft could see his career, everything that he had worked for and was walking for being dangled in front of him like the most delicate carrot and he wanted it, he wanted it more than anything but, as it had always been, Sherlock outweighed all and above in his mind. 

“Forgive me, Bell, but…No, we are not finished here…” He said his voice stiff but determined as he looked at his brother “…Sherlock…” 

“Oh please, Mycroft, you really do truly believe that I am so dense that I wouldn’t know?” Sherlock sighed looking both irritated but immensely pleased his eyes dancing around in his face. There wasn’t a smile but it was there playing with the corner of his mouth and he could almost see the dimple forming that he hadn’t seen in a long time. “…I am genuinely surprised that you didn’t know until today…” 

“…Sherlock, you are being rather infuriating” Bell put in as he sipped his tea as calmly as though he was discussing the weather. “I personally am rather glad that your brother doesn’t sit at his desk wondering when I am going to die…” 

“You…Are not dying?” Mycroft asked looking to his boss, away from his brother, trying to figure out what was going on. He would have expected this from his brother, Sherlock often found enjoyment in tormenting him but this didn’t seem like something Sherlock would concoct. 

“I am, everything I told you was correct only Sherlock was the one that figured out how long…” 

“So, this was what? Some kind of test?”

“…I suppose…Sherlock, be a dear and go torture Sotheby, some more would you?” Bell smiled at the youngest Holmes and although Sherlock looked disgruntled at being dismissed he did as he was bid and Mycroft was sure there was a lighter tread in his steps. Bell waited until thick sound proof door was closed and then lean forward nudging at his knee with his fingertips before saying “…You are more mechanical than even your brother, Mycroft, in our line of work a weakness…Or a pressure point can be a bad thing, but…Speaking from experience that is a load of bollocks…You are young yet Mycroft, there is time enough for you to grow disappointed in the world…For now it is enough for me to know that there is at least one thing that you care more than work ad your career…” 

“…Sherlock, no matter how much of a pest he can be is my brother…I would be…Irritated if anything were to happen to him…” 

“Only irritated?” Bell chuckled and once again Mycroft was treated to the all-knowing icy blue eyed stare that burned down to the marrow and read clearly the word devastated. It was the word that he would use. Devastated, beyond grief. It was sick and twisted that the death of even his parents wouldn’t affect the way something to happening to Sherlock would. He was, to him, something irreplaceable. 

“…Irritated is perhaps the best adjective that I can use here in this office sir…” He said with the smile of a diplomat and Bell gave him another irritating smile inclining his head and chuckling as he murmured;

“Perhaps, never say anything that is perhaps admissible in court…Anyway, now that you have passed mine and Sherlock’s little test the business at hand remains…You have been noticed, you are to be my replacement, one day all of this will be yours…” 

“…It is more than I could have hoped for, sir” Mycroft said, both knowing that it was an untruth but Bell gracefully let it slide finishing his tea and placing his cup down on the saucer. “I feel that I should perhaps allow Sotheby a respite from my brother…You and he have…Things that you can be doing…?”

“Is that an inquiry as to what Sherlock and myself are doing? Have you not guessed? Sherlock requested that I teach him all I can and I am admittedly rather fond of having a willing student…” Bell smiled with the indulgence of a grandfather one might see in movies and Mycroft supposed that was what had his brother seeking out the company of his boss. Their own grandparents, both long dead now thank the heavens, were as emotionally stunted as they were or as stupid and dull-witted as their father. Bell was neither of those things and all earlier jealousy was dispelled by the look he saw now “He claims that he is to be a detective…In some sense of the word you and he both follow similar paths...I am sure that he would be irritated if something were to happen to you to, Mycroft…” 

“…I wonder if he would even notice, as for being a detective…Perhaps it is a passion that can hold his interest…” 

“I’m sure that, for as long as it infuriates you, it will hold his interest…” Bell chuckled getting to his feet and Mycroft did the same knowing that his time with Bell was over “The part about shadowing me is also true, after Christmas, you are to report directly to me…” 

“Sir, why was this discussed here…” 

“…At our Christmas? I rather hoped that we would take a break from work over the holiday period…” Bell shrugged and Mycroft accepted it for what it was bowing his head as he left the office unsurprised to be greeted by Sherlock he was surprised by the way his knuckles pressed against his in a way that suggested a promise of something else later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So long since I last posted this, I apologise Christmas is a hectic time for me but I hope that this was okay


	24. Chapter 24

“You picked me over your career…” Sherlock breathed softly later that night when they were cloistered away in their living room. A fire as roaring to his right and Mycroft used it to look at his brother. The light was casting a warm orange glow on his skin and causing his already burnt coppery hair into an even deeper red. His eyes were cast in deep shadow unreadable to the naked eye but Mycroft knew his brother better than anyone else, in fact he was the only one that really knew Sherlock and always would be. Something burned in his gut at the thought of anyone else touching Sherlock, he hadn’t touched him yet but he would and then only he would know the feel of his skin, the warmth of it and the areas which caused him pleasure. He had been thinking of little else since he had felt the knuckles press against him in a silent promise and he knew, all being well that tonight was when thy would finally break through that thin threshold of being just brothers to something more. They could hardly do it when they were swept away to Scotland after all. 

“It was hardly a choice Sherlock…” He said with a delicate shrug bringing his glass of whisky to his lips and sipping it slowly allowing the burn of the amber liquid to calm down some of his more errant thoughts and emotions. 

“You couldn’t have known that it was just a test…” 

“Of course, I didn’t know, but even then, it was hardly a choice…” He said again lowering his glass to the table and rising from his chair. There was an uncomfortable swirl of emotions inside his stomach and he hastened to push them away. He had never been one to suffer with butterflies of the stomach but there was always time for a new experience, he cleared the space between himself and Sherlock swiftly his hand coming to caress his perfectly high cheek bones that jutted out of his skin in a sharply angular way “You are precious to me…” 

“You sound as though you are Sméagol...” Sherlock pouted his tongue nervously lapping at his lips, a childish habit that had all but vanished recently.

“I thought that you had delated fantasy from your mind…” Mycroft chuckled remembering sitting together on Sherlock’s bed when he had been only five. His copper curls against his nostrils as his head lay against his chest as Sherlock carefully read through the book pretending not to fear the Ringwraiths but holding his arm so tight that his nails dug into his skin.   
“Fantasy yes…Moments when you were actually a decent brother…No…” Sherlock said his eyes flashing with defiance as he looked up at him his tongue once more moving over his lips and Mycroft moved his hand to press his thumb to it.   
“You haven’t spoken to me for two days…Why?”   
“…You say that you want me and yet you do nothing about it…I theorised that you were saying things to be a decent brother…” Sherlock admitted colour creeping slowly into his cheeks and Mycroft felt the urge to laugh wondering when telling your brother that you had more than brotherly affection could be described as a decent brother.   
“…Hardly…” He muttered dropping down and pressing his lips to Sherlock’s. It felt so long since they had kissed but it felt as right as it had before. Sherlock was more enthusiastic this time kissing him back with a fever that hadn’t been there before and Mycroft knew that he was thanking him for picking him. His arms wrapped around him holding him down and although Mycroft would have liked to continue he pulled back said very pointedly “A decent brother wouldn’t kiss you…I would rather hope that this notion of me doing this to appease you would leave now…You know me as well as I know you…Would I do anything I wasn’t comfortable with just to spare your feelings, Sherlock?”   
“No…But you never fight for me…At least not until today…Was there even a moment when you thought you would keep it a secret from me?”

“…I would be lying if I said no…There was doubt, it was everything I have ever wanted...” Mycroft admitted thinking back to the room and the sensation that had accompanied Bell’s words “But…You are mine, I would never allow anything that I hurt you like that…What hurt and damage you get will be your own making, never mine…” The words were the best form of real words of love that somebody like he could give and he could see in his brother’s eyes that he recognised them as such. His pupils dilated somewhat with happiness and he moved forward of his own account and pressed his lips to his in a more heated kiss. 

It wasn’t graceful, it wasn’t even coordinated but it was passionate something that nobody had probably even thought of the Holmes brothers ever being. Sherlock seemed to have more control and there was an urgency about his movements as his fingers tugged at the woollen jumper he had been forced to don with the chill of the old house, here in front of the fire though he allowed the jumper to be pulled off. Sherlock was met with another layer but he didn’t seem to mind brushing at his body through his soft shirt. It was only when Mycroft came out of the fog of his mind when he realised that Sherlock had a tremble to his fingers reminding him that he was young and possibly more nervous than he was. Neither had any real experience in this department and everything that he did know was from book research. He knew that the practical would be different from that. 

He stopped the kiss and then grabbed a hold of Sherlock’s hands his thumbs moving over the long and graceful fingers as he knelt so they were in a much better position to look at each other. It was a gratifying sight with his eyes open and wide with uncertainty, his high cheeks tinged red, and his lips were glossy from a mixture of their spit. 

“Let’s do this properly, Sherlock…Come on…” He said taking the younger man’s hand and tugging him up from the chair. Sherlock came willingly and together they crossed the hall to the winding staircase. Their fingers threaded together neatly and their feet hurried up the carpeted stairs. There was one moment of deliberation on the top step but it lasted only a moment before they both turned and headed into Mycroft’s bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious if people want a 'full on sex scene' or just a suggestion or hints...


	25. Chapter 25

Sherlock’s skin was wet and slippery, shining with a sheen film of soap suds and water and Mycroft basked in the sight of it. His brother was thinner than a boy his age should be and his skin almost as white as marble enabling him to see the network of crisscrossing veins that channelled the life-giving blood throughout his lover’s body. There was more muscle than he was expecting but given that Sherlock had enjoyed boxing far more than any other subject at school he supposed that he really shouldn’t have been surprised and they moved perfectly as they washed each other under the spray of the shower. The shower had been his suggestion, a way of prolonging the inevitable and allowing them both some time to breathe and process. It was working for Sherlock, though his brother had been telling him the chemical name of the ingredients in his Shampoo for the last five minutes, it was almost as endearing as it was annoying. 

“CH3(CH2)10CH2(OCH2CH2)2OSO3Na and NaC12H25SO4…Those are the formula that make up most common shampoo…” Sherlock informed him again his voice sounding as though there was a frog in his throat as his eyes were darting nervously around the shower. 

“Sherlock…Relax…” He said as commandingly as he could manage with his penis half-erect and his hair in disarray with white soap bubbles. His hands moved down Sherlock’s chest in tight little circles, not really caressing him just smoothing the soap into his body. He kept both his hands above trouser level but even that had Sherlock’s muscles twitching like a nervous kitten. It was rather cute, which was a word he would never have associated with Sherlock before today. Sublime, stunning, infuriating, obtuse, were all words he had thought about the man in front of him but never cute…Now though he was cute. Sherlock’s lips moved, whispering silently almost like a devout man at prayer but as he listened in closely he realised what it was. 

“H…Hydrogen…1.008…Li…Lithium…6.94…Na…Sodium…22.98976928” 

“Brother mine, why are you reciting the periodic table?” Mycroft asked with amusement deeply engrained in his voice as his hand skirted over his stomach causing Sherlock’s eyelashes to flutter rapidly his breath escaping in a long hiss as the muscles clenched and contracted. Mycroft’s fingertips moved to the prominent hipbone that was jutting out. He felt the bubble of goosepimples breaking out over his skin and he saw his nipples harden as his cheeks flushed ever more brightly as he gasped out;

“…K…Potassium…39.0983…” 

“Sherlock…” He whispered moving forward so his lips were against his ear his hand moving over the bone again before moving further towards his back and his almost none existent buttocks. It wasn’t soft but it felt just right in his hand and he gave it a soft squeeze forcing Sherlock to press against him. His penis was hard but flexible against his hip. Mycroft kissed him slowly on the ear before moving his lips down to the line of his chin. There was a somewhat delicate spot just under the corner of his mouth that caused a reaction. “I told you…Just relax…We don’t have to take this any further than you…” 

“You do…Mycroft, I will never be ready…” Sherlock breathed in that same squeaky voice that he had been using the entire time that they had been in here “You have to make me…You…You have to…Or I will just recite the entire periodic table…” 

“…I see…Well, as illuminating as that would be, I would rather have you breathing my name…” Mycroft said hoping that didn’t sound half as bad as he was imagining. He half wished that he had spent more time learning from the poets rather that the sciences but he supposed, if he had done he wouldn’t have been the one in the shower with Sherlock. Poetry wouldn’t work on his brother cold hard silence would but right now, in this moment at least he wanted lust and passion he wanted to arouse those in his brother and it was difficult to do that with Sherlock spouting the periodic table. Sherlock’s eyes widened with his mouth opening into an O of surprise. 

Mycroft used the break in Sherlock’s nerves to recapture his mouth. His hand curled around Sherlock’s penis and he stroked it slowly up and down in much the same way he had stroked his own during the time of experimentation. It had never been a truly satisfying thing for him far too messy for his taste but, when Sherlock took his penis in turn it felt far and beyond what he had felt shut away in his own room. A moan broke from Sherlock’s mouth as he gave him an experimental harder tug. The skin slipped and slid against the cock while his thumb touched at the tip drawing out another moan which vibrated against his lips before Sherlock copied him. 

It continued in the same way for a while until his had moved back, his knees weak to the point of almost giving way, so his back pressed against the cold wet tiles with Sherlock resting against his chest. Their hands were moving more confidently on one another and they were both lost in the bliss of it. Sherlock had been reduced to barely grunting out his name as he had opened between needy, hot, violent kisses. Mycroft himself had never been so out of control of his senses and lost to the basest instincts that were now controlling him. His body was trembling and quivering with the sheer bloody violence of it and he could feel that Sherlock was in a similar state heading to almost the same sense of bliss. Perhaps it was not the way that either of them might have wanted this to be this night but he and Sherlock were not like other men and they could do things at their own pace and in their own way. 

“Mycroft…I can…Barely…Un…” Sherlock moaned his face coming to press into his chest gapping at him for a moment before his entire body shuddered and he released in a steady stream with a strained cry tearing from his throat. Mycroft followed his brother shortly after his own body doing a full body tremble. It felt pulled from every single muscle in his body and he sagged pressing his face into Sherlock’s wet curls and then hugged him tight as they sank into the foot well of the shower. 

Water sprayed down onto their mangled forms and Mycroft pulled himself from his revive enough to cup the younger man’s cheeks and kissed his nose and mouth. He appeared to be so fragile at that moment like a paper doll that might have blown away and he crushed him ever more tightly to his chest and allowed himself to bask in happy tremors that were running through his and Sherlock’s bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They didn't make it to sex yet >.< I hope that this is okay


	26. Chapter 26

“I highly doubt we can stay here for much longer…” Mycroft mumbled a little while later. His mind was still in a strange happy haze but he was starting to feel rather cramped and uncomfortable. Sherlock slowly looked up at him, thankfully still looking a little dazed and vulnerable and Mycroft carefully moved a lock of hair out of his eye and behind his ear. “Come on, brother mine, let’s get ourselves dry and into bed…”   
“Your bed?” Sherlock asked as he got to his feet stretching out a hand. Mycroft took it and allowed himself to be pulled upward. There was a small amount of pain in his muscles in his legs and back and he tried his best to stop a grown from forcing its way out of his mouth knowing that it was the kind of thing that would bring about scorn from his brother. He stretched out his back a little nodding his head and saying;   
“…Of course, though if you wriggle around too much you can take the floor…”   
“Actually, given how much you snore…” Sherlock smiled somewhat teasingly and Mycroft couldn’t even attempt to hide his chuckle slapping his brother somewhat playfully on his hip before capturing him again and holding him fast against his body as he purred;  
“…Sherlock…Don’t be a brat and ruin what was otherwise a rather enjoyable moment...” He moved forward and pressed his kiss to the slightly swollen lips. He hadn’t realised just how hard he had been kissing him earlier but it appeared that Sherlock was thankfully uninterested in complaining at least about that. They pulled apart and the younger man gave an awkward smile his cheekbones highlighted with a flush. “…Perhaps I should keep you like this forever, you are certainly a lot more manageable…”   
“Shut up…” Sherlock glowered and then turned as sharply as he could and marched out of the shower stopping only to take both the towels from the rack.   
“Sherlock…I’m going to need at least one of them…” He pointed out watching Sherlock wrap one around his waist and then the other around his shoulders leaving the curls to coil naturally with the water. Sherlock smirked at him over his shoulder and flashed him a hot look before saying;  
“I thought with all that hot air you have inside you should be able to blow yourself dry…”   
“Brat…” Mycroft growled in response though the force of it was softened by the smile that was on his face and the fond look that would be in his eyes. He wiped his body the best that he could with a flannel and then stepped out, wincing as his foot met with the tiles instead of the rug. Thankfully Sherlock had been gracious enough to leave him his towelling robe and he wrapped it around himself before following his brother out into his bedroom. Sherlock was crouched in front of the fire trying to coax some life into the flames and bring some warmth to the chilly room. Mycroft went to sit on the bed his foot tapping at his brother’s back in punishment but Sherlock didn’t even bother to look back at him focused on the flames.   
“I don’t see why you can’t invest in an electric fire Mycroft…”   
“I prefer an open fire…I think they make the room warmer…” Mycroft shrugged slowly when the flames were had a more satisfying level. “Besides its more convenient for me to have one…”   
“Secret letters that you have to burn?”   
“…Indeed…” Mycroft took Sherlock’s hand and pulled him up onto the bed his fingers automatically going to play with the tight wet curls. He had always been rather fond of Sherlock’s hair, as well as being envious when it became clear to him that he was going to follow their great uncle and start to lose his own at some point in the future. Pushing that rather unfortunate reality from his mind he took the towel draped over Sherlock’s shoulders and carefully rubbed his brother’s hair dry. The heat from the fire helped the process immensely and before long the curls were glowing in the dim lights. His fingers ghosted over Sherlock’s cheek and then his lip which were already going down.   
“We…Are truly pathetic when it comes to the physical side of our…Affair aren’t we?” Sherlock breathed with what sounded like some disappointment and bitterness. Mycroft felt disappointment that he had not taken his brother but he was not angered by it in the way Sherlock appeared to be.

“…Perhaps but we do what is right for ourselves, Sherlock, and neither of us are prone to seek out pleasure in the physical realms…” 

“So, your attraction to me is not physical? You do not want more from me?” Sherlock asked the question in a way that seemed to state that was how it was and Mycroft fixed him with a stare wondering at how somebody as intelligent as Sherlock could be so stupid.

“I want everything from you, Sherlock, I simply meant that neither of us have done anything like this before…” 

“Other people manage to do it all the time…” Sherlock pointed out and Mycroft had to nod in agreement. It was true that other people seemed to find their way into having sex without it being a bother. 

“…Perhaps…but we two are not like other people…There is more difficulties between us than there is other people…We could try…” Mycroft tugged Sherlock down and then sat on his legs looking down at him with his hands resting on his shoulders “Should we decide who shall be the erastes?” 

“Don’t be foolish Mycroft, if we were to engage with the Greek Pederasty model it is clear that I, as the younger partner, would fall into the role of the eromenos and I am more than prepared to fall into that role with you…” Sherlock announced firmly and Mycroft couldn’t help but chuckle in surprise his right eyebrow lifting his forehead.

“You wouldn’t fight me?”

“…I have already run through several arguments in my mind over the subject and each one ends in the same way…You are hardly the type of person that would give up all control to me…You hate all being in your personal space Mycroft…” 

“Not all…You I don’t find repulsive…” Mycroft admitted slowly moving his face close to Sherlock’s so his lips were ghosting against his lips “See…You I rather enjoy being in my personal space…” Their lips met in a slow kiss the folds of his bathing robe falling open as Sherlock reached up and before he knew it he was sighing with happiness when he felt his brother’s soft fingers brushing over the skin of his stomach and then his hip. His tongue slid against the seam of his mouth and Sherlock’s lips parted to allow him entrance. “You are the most glorious being…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope that everyone has a fantastic year...A new episode of Sherlock tonight! I'm very excited :)


	27. Chapter 27

Mycroft grunted low in his throat as he withdrew from Sherlock’s body. There was slick sound that accompanied the action and he felt his stomach twist with the knowledge that he had defiled his brother. The act itself had been almost completely unplanned filled with raw emotions and awkward. Sherlock had been unresponsive throughout much of it, until Mycroft had threatened to withdraw completely and call the whole thing off. Even then Sherlock had been strange but at least they had gone through with it. He rolled onto his back, his hand laid against his rapidly rising and falling stomach. Sherlock was next to him his eyes fixed on the ceiling his curls clinging to his forehead and his mouth slightly gaped apart. For the moment, he was stunned into silence and Mycroft allowed himself to smile saying;

“So…That was it…” 

“…So, it would seem…” Sherlock replied his voice husky and low, deepened by their actions and Mycroft rolled onto his side tucking his arm under his head as his hand trailed up and down the side of his brother’s body. “…It wasn’t…As I imagined…” 

“Bad?” Mycroft’s hand stalled on Sherlock’s hip and he was relieved when Sherlock shook his head his eyebrows drawing together as he turned to face him forcing Mycroft’s hand to move around his body. The action brother them closer together into something which was like a hug. Sherlock nose and was pressed into his chest as he grumbled;

“Not…Bad as such…Just not as I thought…I imagine that it would get better…The more we do it…”

“As with everything practice creates skill…” Mycroft agreed his held breath escaping with a hiss glad that Sherlock wanted more times. He drew the younger man into his body for a moment, pressing his nose and mouth into the coiled locks. The scent was impossible to describe, sweat mingled with shampoo and sex, it should be repugnant to him the stench, the knowledge that he was covered in sweat but instead of disgusted the thought of it was something incredible still he sighed and whispered “…We should clean up…”

“…Later…” 

“Now…You won’t thank me in the morning if I were to leave you like this…” He hummed still not making any real effort to move away from his brother who appeared to be drifting to sleep. His voice was thick and heavy with sleep as he grunted;

“…Urgh…Then you deal with it…I’m tired…” 

“…You’re nothing but a brat…” Mycroft huffed though he was more amused than angry. He pressed a kiss to the top of the head and then climbed out of the bed. His feet were cold against the floor boards but he persevered heading into the shower room again. He brought out a bowl from the cupboard and then filled it with warm soapy water before getting a flannel. The water swirled and sloshed around in the bowl as he carried it back to the bed noting to himself that Sherlock had rolled into the middle of the bed and appeared to have truly fallen to sleep. He clicked his tongue against his teeth but set the water down cleaning the dried ejaculate from his brother’s skin. It felt almost as though he were anointing him and he was glad that Sherlock wasn’t awake to witness it. Once he was done with Sherlock he turned the cloth onto himself feeling better once he was clean. Dumping the cloth back into the bowl he curled up around Sherlock and allowed himself to bask in the knowledge that he had taken him and that Sherlock wanted him to do so again. 

Morning came too quickly breaking in through the windows almost cruelly and Mycroft tried not to flinch at the sound of his alarm. For a moment, he was confused as to why there was a warmth against him and then recalled the events of last night. His eyes adjusted to the light and he looked down at the body he was holding tightly. Sherlock’s eyes were open and staring at him and Mycroft could see that he appeared to be amused. 

“You really washed me…” 

“Indeed…I didn’t like the idea of sleeping with you covered in your own filth…” 

“…You got me that way…” Sherlock pointed out with a grin that seemed to be designed to irritate him but Sherlock moved forward quickly pressing his mouth to his in a short kiss. “…Tonight, we may do the same again…” 

“Tonight, brother mine, we shall be in Scotland with Bell, or did you delete that uncomfortable truth?” Mycroft reminded him sharply his own mind recoiling at the thought of making merry “I highly doubt I would be his chosen second if he were to know that I was laying with my own brother…” 

“…I did forget…I should probably get some clothes ready…” Sherlock hummed rolling onto his back and scratching his stomach with his fingers “Give me a cigarette…” 

“I rather think not…You owe me a pack and a half already…” Sherlock glowered at him for a moment and then sighed getting up out of the bed and stretching out his back. The action caused his young muscles to clench and move under his paper-white skin and Mycroft felt an uncomfortable tightening his groin as his eyes fixated on his brother’s buttock remembering what it had been like to be buried within him. Tried to recapture his scattered thoughts he cleared his throat and sat on the edge of his bed saying “I believe that Bell said we would travel by train this afternoon…You have time to get some clothes together…I should call mummy and tell her that neither of us will be here over the Christmas period…” 

“She and father will be having too much fun doing whatever it is they do to even think about us…It’s always been the case…” Sherlock said grabbing the robe that Mycroft had put on the night before and Mycroft stared at the downcast head wondering if he could detect a trace of bitterness. He had never cared about his parents and if they had an interest in him or not but he had known that Sherlock missed the warmth of their parents. 

“Not always…There was a time that they tried if you recall…” He offered out slowly and Sherlock gave a shrug saying flippantly; 

“Yes, before we realised just how boring they were…I will go shower first…Then you”

“As you wish brother mine…” Mycroft watched Sherlock leave and then stretched out on the bed his hand moving over the sheets that were still warm from where Sherlock had slept. It was a silly little indulgence that he allowed himself until Sherlock was coming back out of the shower room. The younger man didn’t stay for long but at him for a moment and then swept out saying something about seeing him downstairs later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has everyone watched the new episode? I really liked it...I can't get over the takeaway menus on Mycroft's fridge...As for the third brother mystery...Wherever they go with that in show I'm going to ignore it in this story...Mostly cause I have an idea where I want this to go and a third brother takes away from that...Plus...the idea of it irks me a little >.


	28. Chapter 28

Mycroft was just finishing reading his newspaper when Sherlock emerged from upstairs carrying a suitcase. If he had been expecting things to have changed after last night, he would have been sorely disappointed but as it was he was happy when Sherlock dropped himself into the chair opposite and drank his tea.

“Have you brought Bell a Christmas present?” He asked and Sherlock gave him a questioning glance from under a fallen curl. It wasn’t something that he had given much thought over before but since his boss had asked for them to share Christmas with him in his private residence then it was only proper that they get him a little something. He had purchased an engraved pen for the man doubting that a Scot would enjoy the normal bottle of whisky given to elder family. 

“…Yes…I surmised that it would be normal to do so when he gave the invitation…” Sherlock answered with a roll of the shoulders. Mycroft asked a question with his eyebrow and Sherlock sighed looking a little irritated before grabbing a biscuit from the plate out in front of him “I haven’t given him something unpleasant…It was something that he wanted…” 

“…I see…” Mycroft glanced down at the paper and frowned a little when he saw that he had finally reached the sport section. It wasn’t something that came up very often in his life but he always took pains to know the scores of the game should it come up in conversation. “Who else will be there?”

“…I have no idea, Mycroft, I imagine that Joseph’s sister will make an appearance…” Sherlock hummed his lips a thin line as he munched on his biscuit. It was difficult to believe that only last night they had been intimate but he supposed that an unchanged air around them was for the best. “You didn’t know that he had a sister?”

“…My boss’s personal life is of no concern to me…” Mycroft said genuinely surprised that he hadn’t thought about Bell and family. “But as it happiness, no I didn’t know that Bell had a sister…I imagine that it is one of those things that he protects…” 

“I would imagine so…She seems pleasant enough in conversation” The compliment from his brother was completely unexpected “She is the reason that we are going so I imagine that she will be there…I brought her a gift as well…If he has any other family lurking around in the highlands I’m not sure…” 

“…I didn’t think to buy her a present…” Mycroft lamented and Sherlock let out a barked laugh before saying;

“Since you didn’t know she existed I think you can be forgiven…” The smile that lit up his face reminded him of last night. He had been breathless with his face glowing with sweat. “You can say that the gift I got her is from you too...Don’t looked so panicked it’s just a cardigan…”

“…How did you buy something so human?” 

“…I didn’t, I asked the woman at the shop what an elderly woman would like…The cardigan was the best option…Why are you staring at me like that?” Sherlock asked his smile transforming from a smile to a pout and Mycroft felt his own lips stretch into a smile. His hand moving of the table top until his fingers were brushing against Sherlock’s. His fingers were cold, having always been that way since they were children, but right now they were twitchy in a way that they had been before. 

“Like what?”

“...Like you are planning on eating me…It’s unnerving, like the way you look at cake…” 

“…Insults so early in the morning? Last night you were rather tame…I enjoyed you that way…” Mycroft purred softly his smile getting wider when Sherlock’s pale cheeks went a deep red and he tried to counter with a biting;

“You were holding me down…there was rather a lot of weight on top of me…” 

“…Insults only work when there is feeling behind it and I know that you didn’t mind my weight last night…” Sherlock pulled a face but stayed quiet allowing Mycroft to grow in confidence and he got up from the chair to move around the table and take his brother’s chin in his hand. His thumb ghosted gently over his lips and Sherlock’s tongue slipped through parted lips to lap at the tip. Mycroft moved forward and then kissed him once on the corner of his brother’s mouth before moving to kiss him a little more intently. Their mouths moved together with more skill than he had done previously and Mycroft was grinning as he pulled away saying “…You wouldn’t mind my weight right now…” 

“…Mycroft…We don’t have time…” Sherlock pointed out his eyes going to the clock on the wall about the sink and Mycroft sighed reluctantly having to agree with him as he hummed;

“No…Do rather need a long build up…” 

“Neither of us are comfortable with letting go...”

“Maybe we should stop thinking of it as letting go…It was rather enjoyable when we gave into each other…” Mycroft moved and sat back down at his own chair his fingers moving over the grain of the wooden table. Sherlock was tense but his eyes were softer now and his mouth was moving into a smile “I think that we should finish and then make our way out in to the world…” 

“You have work and Bell said that there was something that he wanted to teach me before we head up to Scotland…” Sherlock hummed ghosting his fingers over his for a moment before he got up and cracked his back rubbing the back of his neck with his fingers. Mycroft rolled his eyes a little before getting up himself and finishing the last slice of toast covered in marmalade. “You will have a lot more weight if you continue to eat as much as you do…” 

“…Indeed…” Mycroft hummed slowly tossing the toast back down onto the plate the words stinging just a little. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and then pressed his body up against Sherlock’s forcing up against the counter. There really wasn’t any time for this but he couldn’t resist kissing him more with his arms wrapping around his brother’s form tightly. Sherlock put up a light resistance but quickly melted against him his arms coming up to wrap around his neck tightly. 

“I think you’re a bad influence on me…” Sherlock huffed out between the kissing and Mycroft gave a light shrug cupping his cheek and a smile saying;

“If you listen to mummy I always was…” 

“…You are the only person that has had any influence on me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was okay >.


	29. Chapter 29

“Ah there you are…” Bell greeted them with a pleasant smile as they entered what should have been the dark underbelly at the heart of the British nation. There might have been a time when Bell might have been as cold and calculating as he should be but as it was, it was more like being greeted by a less insane and more intelligent version of their Grandfather. The drones were happily buzzing about typing and processing information and Mycroft was about to join them when Bell cleared his throat “Today you come with us…” 

“As you wish sir…” Mycroft stated inclining his head while Sherlock managed to look startled before recovering his emotions quickly. 

“Very good…Come along then…” Bell pushed through them and then hurried towards the exit leaving Sherlock and Mycroft to follow in his wake. The change to his routine was unexpected but not unwelcomed though he was sure that he could change his opinion if he were to be found to be running around London as his brother enjoyed. “It is a change to our plans young Sherlock, but there is a crime scene…” 

“And they asked for your help?”

“…Not so much asked…” Bell grinned happily in a similar way to Sherlock would when he was playing what he considered to be a joke. Mycroft found himself growing increasingly concerned but said nothing watching the two men descend into a conversation that he wanted no part in. The pair seemed to be thoroughly animated as they were ushered into a black Rolls-Royce. The car was more comfortable then the taxi’s that Mycroft was used to and warmer and Mycroft let out a touch of a sigh as his thigh pressed against Sherlock’s “You said that you were interested in what Sherlock and I got up to…”

“…I think my brother would have been happier with an explanation rather than being forced into a demonstration…” Sherlock chuckled looking extremely happy for someone that was heading for a crime scene. It was obscene the way that his eyes were shining. Bell let out a rather jovial laugh giving a nod from opposite them. 

“Perhaps…Not as eager to be out of doors as young Sherlock…” 

“…My brother hates noise and people…He would be happiest locked away in a little room somewhere…Being fed cakes by people who don’t speak to him…” Sherlock hummed sounding thoughtful “…So, you were telling me about the crime?”

“…Body parts…Scattered around Harrow, found early this morning…By a young boy on his paper round…” Bell sounded far too happy at the mention of scattered body parts and Mycroft looked at his brother noticing that he was looking just as, if not happier. The teen was leaning forward with an eager expression on his face and Mycroft realised that his brother was being serious when he said that being a detective interested him. 

“…So, the police are looking for a lunatic…” 

“…So, it would seem…” Bell was still grinning while Mycroft rolled his eyes doubting that it would do him any good to point out how insane they both sounded and looked. Sherlock was looking more animated than Mycroft had seen him in years, rather like the boy he had been when they had played pirates together. It should be sick, how happy he was at the idea of death but Mycroft was genuinely happy that his brother had found something that interested him. 

“The body parts…Are they from the same person?”

“…No…One is a child no more than ten give the size of the parts…The other is woman in her mid to late twenties…They haven’t been able to run blood tests yet…”   
“But it is likely that they are related…” Mycroft put in as a gesture and Sherlock nodded while Bell hummed saying;

“One would imagine so…We shall be arriving soon…Sherlock stay close to me or your brother…” Sherlock looked rather mutinous at being treated like a child but he gave a nod knowing that it would be possible for the police to refuse him access. It was a rather strange field trip but Sherlock had never been what was considered by laymen to be normal.   
“…You have been to many crime scenes?”

“…No, this is my first one…Joseph normally makes me study police reports in an office…” Sherlock pouted and Mycroft got a sense that it was something that had brought much tension between the pair. Bell looked unimpressed by the attitude and smiled fondly as he rubbed his knees with gloved hands. “He wouldn’t allow me to go near a real crime scene…” 

“You were able to solve most from the office…” Bell’s tone was proud now and Mycroft had to admit that there was pride inside himself at the words and he smiled at Sherlock his hand brushing a little against Sherlock’s after making the judgement that Bell wouldn’t be able to see them. 

“But it wouldn’t be the same as being there in the thick of the game…” Sherlock hummed positively buzzing with the fact that he was finally allowed to see body parts. Bell hummed softly and then the car came to a stop. The driver got out first and held the door open for them and Mycroft was amused to see Sotheby. The assistant glared at them a little as he respectfully stood to one side and Sherlock was out of the door like a shot. It was damned near obscene how happy his brother was at the sight of the police cars and tape. Bell wasn’t a much better example though he was having more success in hiding his own excitement. Mycroft sighed and allowed himself to follow the pair to the tape. An officer in uniform attempted to bar their entrance but a flash of Bell’s identification had him snapping to attention as he lifted the tape. 

“Sir, I doubt the young man…It’s not a pretty sight…” 

“Ah don’t mind my young assistant, I can assure you that he’s made of sterner stuff than most, right Sherlock?” Bell said cheerfully and Sherlock nodded though Mycroft knew that his brother hadn’t been paying attention and was practically rocking back and forth in his excitement. Mycroft lightly hit his brother on the shoulder and then let out a sigh his eyes rolling at the sight that was before him. There was a large amount of people and rather harried looking police officers. None of them were going to like somebody like Sherlock on their crime scene, more so if Sherlock opened his mouth, and he straightened his back into a better posture as the lead investigator appeared in front of them. 

“What’s all this then? Sergeant you’re meant to keep people beyond the line…” The man spluttered glaring at them all. Once again Bell flashed his identification while Sherlock announced loudly;

“Isn’t this exciting!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay >.


	30. Chapter 30

“Is he trying to be funny? We’ve got a kiddie here and a woman…Brutally murdered and dropped around Harrow like he was delivering presents and that kid thinks it’s exciting like we’re at a bloomin’ fairground?” The lead investigator snapped his eyes narrowing into unforgiving points as he glared at Sherlock and Mycroft was surprised at the burst of anger that blossomed inside him at the look. He had always been protective of his younger brother, in his own way at least, but now it ran deeper than that still. 

“…You shall have to forgive young Sherlock…” Bell said trying his best to appease the man in front of them while Sherlock managed to look impassive clearly not understanding why he was being glared at or why his words might be considered hurtful or disrespectful. The police officer pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket as he growled;

“Not until he shows more bloomin’ respect…” 

“Would respect bring them back? Would my hiding my excitement put them back together again or find your killer…?” Sherlock asked slowly and Mycroft knew that he had to head it off before Sherlock and the investigator, Allan Smithee, resorted to blows. His hand went to Sherlock’s shoulder and he squeezed it tightly when that failed to draw his attention he said softly;

“Sherlock…” 

“Mycroft, surely you…”

“Sherlock, stop being a brat for a moment unless you want your first crime scene to be your last…I understand your feelings but surely you can understand the feelings of Inspector Smithee?” Mycroft hummed honestly finding it difficult himself to understand why a stranger was so invested but he put it down to be the thing that normal people were like and he tried to get his point across with his eyes and said pointedly “A child has been killed Sherlock…” 

“…Very well, I apologise…” Sherlock said with great difficulty “My tone and words were not appropriate for the situation. I am deeply sorry for the loss of the child, I hope that I can aid in bringing swift justice to the person who committed the crime…” 

“…I don’t see how a snot nosed kid would be able to help…” Smithee growled seemingly accepting the apology no matter how badly it was given. Mycroft watched his brother closely hoping that he wouldn’t do anything to ruin it thankfully Bell, realising the risk, stepped forward in front of Sherlock and smiled charmingly as he hummed;

“You are under estimating my young companion…I assure you that his ability to see things that others may not…” 

“Whatever, it don’t look much I have a say in it either way…” Smithee let out a grunt and then turned sharply on his heel marching away from them. Mycroft let out a breath and hit his brother playfully on the back of the head and then followed Bell towards the large white tent that had been set up around the remains. The forensics were already wearing the blue and white coveralls and Mycroft stared with disdain when they were informed to put them on. Sherlock was glaring much like a scolded cat when the female forensic officer held out the outfit. 

“You have to wear it if you want to go inside the tent…” 

“I think that we should be fine, come on, Sherlock, Mycroft…” Mycroft followed his brother and boss slowly ignoring the indignant cried of the pathologist. He looked around the tent with his eyebrow lifted on his forehead only managing to garner a mild interest. There were far too many people for his liking and the noise was enough to make it difficult to think. He had never been one to enjoy the physical aspects of work and had happily skipped over field assignments using his intelligence to bypass actual experience. 

Sherlock on the other hand appeared to be in his element his eyes moving here and there as he absorbed everything in sight. It was a technique that Mycroft had taught him and he himself had been taught by their least insane grandmother. Observation was a good habit to have, most people saw only what was obvious, he and Sherlock saw beyond the mundane and the obvious. They saw the tread of the criminal and noticed that they were small in stature and slim wearing a size four shoe with the left wore worn than the right. They were almost at the body parts already Mycroft could tell that the police were looking for a woman in her early 20’s that had been pushing a pushchair or a pram at around eight in the morning. Given the location of the body parts it was clear that it was a local person and active. 

“Are you sure about the kid?” Another voice said and Mycroft allowed himself to lean against a table allowing his brother to spout out all the deductions that he himself had already seen as well as another about the age of the child. Six, not much of an age to be killed to be sure, he could remember Sherlock quite vividly at age six tearing around their country home with Redbeard in tow and for one unmistakable moment Mycroft could understand why the inspector was so upset. He wasn’t upset for the life taken here that moment but for somebody, perhaps his own daughter. He was quickly able to push the feeling away of course, Sherlock was alive, very much so, and stunning everyone in the tent. “…You think that a woman would have done this?” 

“…Yes…A lover, the level of intensity and violence normally means that there is a romantic connection...I would surmise that it was a lover thinking that they could get rid of the competition…” Sherlock announced looking around the tent happily as if he were expecting a treat like he had given Redbeard when he had performed a simple trick. 

“…I don’t see how that helps us…” 

“…It’s more than you had to go on before my arrival and I have only just arrived…” Sherlock clapped his hands together and pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket. Mycroft felt his lips twitch as his before got on his hands and knees studying the cut marks on the small arm while Bell stood over him looking like an overly indulgent grandfather that had arranged it all. “Mycroft…” Sherlock called sounding extremely excited as he jumped to his feet again “This way…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry, this chapter frustrated me a lot and I don't think its very good >.< the next chapter should be better


	31. Chapter 31

“So, where exactly are we going? And why couldn't we have taken the car? Brother mine?” Mycroft asked when they had been walking without any clear direction for around ten minutes. It felt as though the were once again wandering aimlessly around the snow covered garden. Bell seemed to be rather happy with the situation and Mycroft made a mental note to see if cancer medication brought about a change in personality or if it was simply down the thought of staring down your own mortality. It was rather a daunting prospect, not one that he had ever been presented with and he wondered if he were in his final moments what would he think of.

“Don't worry Mycroft, I shouldn't think that you will strain yourself too much…” Sherlock answered with a smile over his shoulder and Mycroft could help but feel a pang of anger that his brother was allowing everybody to see how glorious he was. “We won't be going too far…” 

“That doesn’t explain where we’re going…” 

“To catch the killer…I never thought that I would have to explain that to you, Mycroft…You saw the evidence as clearly as I did…It was right in front of your face after all…” Sherlock sounded somewhat bitter and Mycroft knew that he was still bitter that he had never been able to beat him in a game of deduction. 

“Of course, I saw it, Sherlock, but there was nothing there which would have given you any indication as to the identity of the woman…” Mycroft said irritated himself when Sherlock gave him a pleased knowing smile his head tilting to one side as he rubbed his chin. 

“…Perhaps, perhaps not…” 

“…Sherlock, if you’re just guessing…” 

“I’m wounded…As you are the one that taught me Mycroft, I suppose that you have no confidence in your own skills…” Mycroft stared at his brother realising that they had become quite close to each other and he could see the amber flicks. They had always annoyed him, rather like an imprecation in the creature that was Sherlock but at that moment they bewitched him as he could remember Sherlock beneath him staring at him with complete trust. His mind swirled with the evidence taking it all piece by piece and then slotting it together like a giant jigsaw that he hadn’t quite gotten all the pieces for and yet he had enough that an image of a woman did come to mind. “…You got there in the end? Getting slow brother dear…” 

“I doubt it, so why didn’t you inform the police?” Mycroft asked ignoring the dig and Sherlock grinned brightly his head cocking to one side as he asked teasingly;

“…And let them have all the fun?”

“Sherlock, this isn’t a game…” 

“Of course, it is...Everything is a game…” Sherlock said with such a flippant roll of the shoulders that Mycroft wondered, for just a moment, if Sherlock had thought last night was a game. He told himself that it wasn’t but he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t nervous and unsure about his relationship. It wasn’t something that he was used to and he breathed sharply. 

“Boys, let’s not come to blows…We should allow Sherlock to prove his point and gather more evidence before consulting the police…” Bell said from Sherlock’s left clearly misunderstanding the look that was and Mycroft very nearly rolled his eyes at his boss. There was probably no real danger from the perpetrator of the crime, the woman was deranged to be sure but the object of her ire had been the mother and child now scattered in the hedgerows here and there around Harrow. He continued to scowl disapprovingly but he jerked his head in a reluctant nod, angry when Sherlock grinned brightly and then started to walk away from him again. “I suppose that we should catch up to him…” 

“…It would appear so, sir, I am grateful and happy that you have taken an interest with my brother and that you have seen fit to take on his education…” Mycroft said as carefully as he could. He knew that it would have been better to discuss this during their holiday but Mycroft was making a lot of mistakes today. “But Sherlock has always been a difficult and…” 

“Highly spirited? I am aware of this Mycroft, it is good for a young person to be so…” Bell said cheerfully clicking against the ground as he picked up his speed his eyes on Sherlock who was moving through the bushes and trees like a blood hound. Mycroft felt that it was rather pointless, he could see the tracks that the pushchair had taken quite clearly without the need for going through the bushes but Sherlock appeared to be having fun. “Which is exactly the reason that I brought you here, I felt that you could find your sense of fun along with your brother…I assure you that I only want to help…I…I never sought to have children of my own…I was always too busy with my career…” 

“And now you are unable to have a child of your own and have taken my brother to be that role in your final months…I have a lack of understanding of human emotions but, even I understand that…” Mycroft hummed surprised when Sherlock suddenly fell to the floor with his magnifying glass out. Mycroft moved forward away from Bell to stare at the floor seeing what Sherlock could. It wasn’t much, but he could see that there were a few flicks of blood heading to a bush “Ah dear I think that we should contact the police…” 

“What have you found?” Bell asked and Mycroft reached out to stop him but it was too late Sherlock had pushed aside a bush and they were presented with some more body parts coated in no small amount of blood. If Mycroft had been expecting Sherlock to be shocked, he would have been disappointed but as it was he knew that his brother would be excited and he was leaning forward as he said;  
“A thigh and a forearm…There is a considerable amount of blood though…” Mycroft gave a hum and a nod “More than there was in the tent…” 

“And what do you deduce from that?”

“I deduce that we are getting closer to the source…” Sherlock hummed softly looking up at him and Mycroft gave a small smile before nodding and looking around the street. The shops and green space had petered out moving into houses. They were the normal council houses, small places with small mundane rooms. There were people milling around and he gave a shudder at the idea of having to talk to them something that Mycroft knew that Sherlock would soon be doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! 100 kudos! I'm extremely grateful and happy that people like this story :)


	32. Chapter 32

“The killer is a Lorna Moore, 25…The victims were Isobel Jenkins, 35 and her 5-year-old daughter Sophie…” Sherlock announced to the inspector happily and Mycroft watched as Smithee’s face went through a various array of emotions before settling on disbelief. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly before looking at Bell and Mycroft alternately before saying;  
“You found that out in a day?”

“Half a day…It was easy really, the victim’s husband was dating the Moore woman…Her address is 14 Jacob’s lane…I’m sure that once you’re there you will find the table saw that she used to dismember the bodies…” Sherlock suddenly looked a little disappointed and Mycroft knew that it was because Bell had outright refused to allow him to enter the house and had insisted that they call the police. They had found the woman responsible in only two hours. Something that most people would have been impressed and delighted by but Sherlock had already stated that it was boring. Just a domestic case of jealousy really needing very little investigation. Mycroft was sure that even the police would have gotten to the killer when the blood match had been found. Mycroft supposed in future that it would be the kind of case that wouldn’t be in his brother’s scope “She deposited the parts using a pushchair…” 

“…You’ll forgive me if I don’t just take your word for it…” 

“Inspector, you can waste your time on me to prove your point or you could go and catch your killer…” Sherlock said looking riled up at the tone of the man’s voice and Mycroft moved forward ready to intervene if it was needed. 

“I can’t go and arrest somebody on the say so of a snot nosed kid…” 

“Then, how about on my say so? Young Sherlock is indeed right…” Bell said smoothly when even Mycroft was becoming convinced that Sherlock was about to punch the inspector. Mycroft could understand protocol and rules but the man was just being stubborn on purpose “We followed the trail of blood almost to the source and then talked to the residents of Jacob’s Lane…The indicated to us that they had seen Miss Moore and Mrs Jenkins having an altercation a few days ago, it appears that Miss Moore was sleeping with Mrs Jenkins husband…” 

“But to go so far as to kill…” The inspector said almost mournfully and Mycroft rolled his eyes slowly. 

“Yes, it seems stupid but it is what humans do, isn’t it?” Sherlock sighed looking thoroughly more irritated as the conversation wore on. Mycroft suspected that his brother was mostly irritated with the simplicity of the case. “Anyhow go to her home and you will find the evidence that you need…Shall we go? I don’t see any reason to continue to standing out here in the cold when the crime is solved…” 

“No, indeed…Shall we go for something to eat? We know a rather good fish and chip shop not too far away from here…Then we shall have to head to the station we have seats on the four forty…” Bell suggested pulling a well-worn pocket watch from his pocket and looking down at the face. Mycroft had seen the pocket-watch on many occasions and recognised it as being the one worn by his Uncle Ruddy. The family connection had been his stepping stone but Mycroft knew that his own skills had made him valuable beyond just his uncles influence. “Good day, detective inspector…” 

There wasn’t an answer from the disgruntled police man and Mycroft wasn’t all that surprised but he was worried about Sherlock, hoping that this boring case hadn’t made him lose interest in becoming a detective. It was a very difficult thing to understand but he had seen the light in Sherlock’s face and the happiness that had been in his eyes. It was something that he hadn’t seen for a very long time and he would hate it if he were to lose it already. 

“Sherlock…Are your grand dreams of being a detective fading at your first case being boring? It’s always the case, everything that you’ve ever done…This is going to go the same way…” He asked keeping the sneer in his voice knowing that it was the only way that he could force Sherlock into answering him. Sherlock’s back stiffened as he looked over his shoulder at him with his eyes narrowed into almost slits. 

“Of course, not, in fact if I weren’t slowed down by you lugging around after me like an overgrown pudding I would have been able to solve it even more quickly…And the next one I will…” He huffed before turning back to the road and Mycroft found himself smiling discreetly wondering and hoping that Sherlock would never find how easy he was to manipulate. “Just watch me…” 

“…Indeed...” Mycroft hummed as they reached the waiting car. Sotheby was leaning against the boot with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth while chatting to a woman dressed in an overly short skirt and a tight top that was showing off her overly large assists. Sotheby’s cheeks heightened in colour as he quickly straightened his back and through the lit cigarette down to the floor. His hands moved through his hair his back as straight as a pole as he began to splutter about;

“Sir, I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” 

“We’re done here, Sherlock solved the crime just as we expected he would do…” Bell smiled proudly his hand coming to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder in a friendly pat. “We now have some time for lunch before heading back to the office, come on…Shall we get going?”

Mycroft nodded thankfully slipping down into the back of the car. His shoes, while perfectly suited for sitting in an office, were impractical for marching around the streets of London and he had to admit that his weight was once again becoming a probably that he would have to battle head on. More so if he and Sherlock were to continue their affair. Sherlock’s leg was soon pressed against his while Bell took position beside him motioning for Sotheby to start driving only giving directions when they were on the road. 

He hadn’t expected the fish and chip shop to be a wagon on the side of the road but it appeared that Sherlock and Bell were well known figures with the jovial man and woman behind the counter to call them by name as give them their regular. Mycroft sat down on the stool feeling more than a little bit out of place as Sherlock and Bell ate their chips with Bell firing off a round of questions that he knew the answers to but had no understanding of. He rolled his eyes just a touch and then ate the chips slowly having to reluctantly admit that they tasted better than they looked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh…I’m sorry for the delay, I promise that I haven’t abandoned this I was just sick and caught up with my Lestrade/Sherlock story>.


	33. Chapter 33

The train compartment was empty as they settled into their places and Mycroft was positive that it was by design and not accident and Sherlock was soon sprawled over two seats buried behind a book that Mycroft recognised as having been on his bedside table that morning. It was a historical romance, a guilty pleasure he allowed himself on occasion, and it wasn’t the kind of book that Sherlock would ordinarily be inclined to read thus he could only conclude that Sherlock would be teasing him about it the way that he had done throughout their childhood years about his love of the theatre and old movies. 

“You must be extremely proud of your brother…” Bell said as he settled himself into the chair opposite and Mycroft pulled his gaze reluctantly away from Sherlock to look at his boss. The unnervingly blue eyes were fixed on him again and Mycroft hoped that he would be able to achieve such a look that could freeze the hearts of men. Of course, the look at never frozen his own heart the only look that had ever managed that was the look Sherlock had given him last night when he had finally given himself to him body and soul. The look had been intense better than anything that any heroine had been able to produce “Sherlock tells me that you are the reason that he wishes to be a detective…” 

“I brought him some books once, I had no idea that they would leave such a lasting impression on him…” Mycroft shrugged his eyes absently going back to Sherlock who flipped the page of the book. He appeared to be reading purposely slowly, Mycroft knew that Sherlock, like himself, was a visual reader and could read, at last recorded count, approximately 500 words a minute…His own personal best was 776 though people refused to believe that he was processing what he read referring to it as skimming. He had happy proved that incorrect but had gotten no thanks for it. 

“Perhaps, but I imagine that the case last year was the driving force…” 

“Carl Powers…Yes, mother said that it disturbed him but Sherlock merely insisted that he was interested by it…” Mycroft gave a sigh wondering if he had been wrong to talk his mother out of hiring a therapist when Sherlock seemed to be fixated on the case. He had believed that Sherlock wouldn’t welcome the interference and he still believed that. 

“Maybe it was both…Forgive me for saying Mycroft but…” 

“Insanity and the Holmes family line go hand in hand…We are well acquainted with it…Even dear Uncle Rudi…” Mycroft allowed his voice to trail off knowing that Bell didn’t have much need for further explanation the pair had been firm friends and even firmer rivals. “I often think that it’s down to our ability to fall for cousins…” Mycroft hummed his stomach twisting a little uncomfortably at the knowledge that he had not fallen for just a first cousin like his parents but his own baby brother and that Sherlock shared those feelings. “Sherlock seems healthier these days though…” 

“Much like yourself, I remember when Rudi first introduced you as a wee lad…” Bell stopped speaking as the train finally lurched telling them that they were finally on their way to Scotland. He could remember the first time he had met Bell clearly. It had been eight years ago, when he had finally settled on what he wanted to be. Uncle Rudy had brought him into the town for him to join his gentleman’s club as a birthday treat Bell had been there and served as his second sponsor. Nobody argued with Bell. At the time, he had been an overweight, swot, bullied by most of his peers for having intelligence beyond his years. He hadn’t cared for the opinions of his school yard peers but he couldn’t deny from the moment he had seen him he had wanted the respect that Bell had and he was determined now to have it. 

“Mycroft has never been anything that could be considered small…” Sherlock put in helpfully from behind his book and Mycroft was faced with the very real urge to kick him. Bell gave a chuckle before leaning back in his chair which tilted to allow him time to be completely at rest. 

“Sorry, the excitement of this morning has been a little too much…I trust that you can behave for an hour or two” He asked in amusement in his voice and Mycroft tried his best not to react to the insult of being treated like a child by his boss. 

“I have some work that I can do and Sherlock appears to be engrossed in his book…I’m sure we can keep ourselves amused…” Mycroft said taking his folder from his bag while Sherlock pulled a playfully bratty face from behind the book and Mycroft found himself almost smiling as he set about his work.

His interest lasted for only half an hour and then he sighed looking out at the window and the scenery that was flying passed. They had moved quickly out of the city and were making their way through the country. The line was smooth but the journey dull and he turned to Sherlock somewhat surprised to see that he had put his book down and had set up a connect four. It was one of the many games they had played as children before Sherlock’s surliness had out taken brotherly affection. 

“Want to play?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft gave a shrug trying hard not to be too pleased at the idea. He moved away from the now sleeping Bell and sat opposite his brother. “Red?” 

“If you wish” Mycroft agreed taking the red pieces and laying them out in front of him. The game was never really about skill but it had been one of those kinds of games that had helped to hone their skills showing their personalities in much the same way chess would. Neither of them played fair though and Mycroft watched as Sherlock made his first move. 

As always, Sherlock was brash attacking right from the start and Mycroft was easily able to counter. His victory didn’t last for long however as Sherlock’s graceful hand slipped over the wood between them and brushed against his. Their hands were in a position that nobody would be able to see them but Mycroft felt his heart jump ear violently against his ribs as he looked over at Bell making sure that he was still sleeping peacefully before allowing the touching to continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...I think that my dates are messed up…I’ve made this to be more in the 90’s but Carl Powers in canon died in 1989. I don’t think it matters too much (just jiggles the times around a little) but it bugged me so I should apologise >.


	34. Chapter 34

The fingers were feather light against him, moving any which way that they pleased and feeling almost like the delicate wings of a butterfly fighting to take light on a blustery day. Mycroft allowed his eye to go to his brother’s face noting, much to his amusement, that Sherlock was studying their game with more intensity than it deserved. His expression was somewhat unreadable and his eyelashes were curling delicately against his cheeks. Mycroft turned his hand on the table and allowed Sherlock to touch his wrist. It had always been his most sensitive area on his arm, having been broken once as a child, and having Sherlock touch him there was a sure sign of their newly found intimacy. Sherlock appeared to realise that as well as he continued to stroke him with just his middle finger against the veins. 

Mycroft allowed his own fingers to move over Sherlock’s own pulse so that he could feel the changing pace of his heart. It was the only real indication that Sherlock was feeling something as his expression was almost completely rigid. His free hand placed his counter into the slot on the top and Mycroft watched it slide into place with only half-interest. He pinched the delicate flesh around Sherlock’s wrist and then lightly put in his own counter. If he were perfectly honest he wasn’t particularly focused on where he had placed it.

“It’s impossible for you to win…” 

“…Nothing is impossible…” Sherlock said again as their fingers began battling each other. Mycroft allowed his thumb to movie in a strange battle for dominance and then, as if it had never happened, Sherlock’s hand moved away from his as he slid another counter in and a shadow fell over the table. Mycroft barely looked up from their game his hand missing the warmth of Sherlock’s. From just the glance out of the corner of his eye Mycroft could tell that it was a small woman with somewhat badly dyed red hair that you could still see the greying roots showing through. She was wearing thick glasses and spent most of her time in the company of three cats. She had a cheerful personality though and she was smiling brightly as she asked;

“Would you care for a drink or something to eat? Some pop?”

“…Tea would be lovely, thank-you…” Sherlock said somewhat stiffly his fingers drumming against the table as though he was irritated by the interruption or by the implication that he was a regular teenager. Mycroft turned on his best charming smile and hummed;

“A coffee for me thank-you...” He didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of swirling back sludgy black coffee but it had to be better than the swill that the rail service would pass off as tea. “As for our companion…”

“I shall have a coffee as well…” Bell said clearing his throat from over in his seat “I should try to have something to keep my eyes open…” 

“Very good sirs, I will pop it right out for you now…” The woman, whose nametag declared her name was Emma, said with a smile before heading back down the train aisle. Mycroft smiled at his boss and then turned back to the once again sulky looking Sherlock whose fingers were still continuously tapping against the near polished wood.   
“It’s your move, Mycroft, I suggest that you hurry and make it…” 

“…Very well…” Mycroft studied the game and then placed in his counter watching happily as it slid into place with a click hitting against the other counters. Sherlock appeared to smirk a little again taking his own counter and putting it home with a flourish. 

“It’s that I win…” He announced and Mycroft blinked slowly looking properly at the game tower his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he saw that he had let his brother win by creating a diagonal line. “You should learn to focus more, brother dear…” 

“…Indeed, I should always remember that you will find any opportunity to cheat, brother mine…” Mycroft nodded remembering to always be magnanimous in defeat. It always managed to frustrate Sherlock more and as he had wanted the smirk fell away and Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. 

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used a tactical advantage and made use of your weaknesses…” Sherlock almost growled and Mycroft couldn’t resist baiting him knowing that he had felt the truth when he had touched Sherlock’s wrist and knew that his feelings were just as real as his own. Of course, he would never answer in front of Bell so it was almost fun when he asked;

“And what weaknesses are those brother mine?” 

“…” Sherlock was silent as he moved his foot sliding over the floor to knock against his as his head tilted to one side. His eyes were probing his as though he were daring him to continue. “I am the only person to know your weakness Mycroft, it would be foolish of me to give that away to anyone…Just know that I will always have power over you…” 

“…Only the power that I allow you to have little brother…” Mycroft responded almost nervous about the truth of those words. He might try and talk from a position of power but the truth was that Sherlock had the power over him and it would take him a very long time to regain the upper-hand. As somebody that had had the upper hand throughout most of their lives it was unnerving to think he could be brought to heel so quickly. Sherlock was back to grinning again and the tension between them disappeared as once again Emma came down the aisle carrying a tray this time. 

“Sorry for the delay, sirs…I have two coffees and a tea…” She told them brightly handing them out along with a little packet of complimentary biscuits. Mycroft was almost sure that he saw Sherlock’s eyes sparkle when he saw they were Gingernuts and he could remember fondly the time that his brother and Redbeard ate an entire pack by themselves. It was the only time that he could remember their father being even remotely angry as they were also his favourite treat. Of course, even at a young age Sherlock had been a master manipulator and had convinced cookie, their elderly housekeeper who had been a friend of the family more than an employee, to make more and then convinced their father to join them on their adventures. “Pleas enjoy…” 

“Thank-you very much…” Mycroft smiled again unaware that Sherlock’s foot was still against his until he felt a kick that was a little to hard to be accidental and he realised that both he and Sherlock had been wrong there was a way for him to regain the upper hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this isn’t too slow or boring…>.


	35. Chapter 35

Mycroft followed Bell and Sherlock into a cottage which reminded him of his parent’s country cottage though it appeared to be smaller. He imagined that in summer it would be a pretty place covered with a great many flowers, though now there was just empty plots of ground. The walls of the house were painted white and the windows and door was black with a rather ornate looking wreath decorating the shiny brass knocker which was shaped in the face of a horse. It was picturesque but it wasn’t the kind of place that he would have put to his boss so he imagined that the man lived with the elderly sister Sherlock had mentioned. The rooms were lavish but not garish with most of the decoration being done in the natural ever greens and red ribbons. Jewel coloured berries were here and there and delicately painted winter scenes decorated bright baubles. 

An elderly woman, with a head of white curls, and dressed in a fluffy looking cardigan with a flowered skirt. There was an apron around her waist and flowery glasses perched on her nose. She had a strong face and Mycroft was given the impression that she was the older of the pair she also appeared to be as clever as her brother if the smile on her face and the look in her eyes were anything to go on and he could easily see why Sherlock had said that she was okay. Her eyes were the same bright blue as Bell and her nose was the same elongated shape giving her an almost beaked expression. 

“Jo-Jo, how are you, come away in and let me get your coats” She smiled her accent stronger than her brother’s, as well as being warmer and louder. Bell chuckled and accepted the hug that she threw around his neck and then stepped back removing his coat and scarf and motioning for Sherlock and himself to do the same. “This must be wee Sherlock, you’re just as Jo-Jo described” She said happily when Sherlock had pulled off Mycroft’s coat and smiled at her in a way he only normally reserved for their parents. It always worked on them just as it seemed to Bell’s sister who beamed in return and Mycroft almost felt the urge to roll his eyes as he reached out a hand to her politely. “I’m Margaret but you can call me Maggie, of course, I’m so happy to see you in the flesh, that I am, and this bright young man must be Mycroft? You look just like your uncle Rudi, now then I expect that you’ve got a thirst and I have the kettle bubbling away for you. So, come warm yourself by the fire, dears” 

“Stop fussing yourself Maggie, let the boys in...” Bell waved away her fussing and then set a hand on the smalls of their back pushing them further into the warm cottage. “We’ll have some tea and then I will show you to your room…” Mycroft stiffened for a fraction of a second his breath catching awkwardly in his throat. Bell smiled a little slowly “I apologise that you shall have to share, but when Maggie heard that you would be coming she insisted that we stay here and there are only the three rooms. There are two beds…”

“For your grandchildren?” Sherlock asked Maggie with more interest than he normally showed anyone but Mycroft knew that it was down to how much he liked Bell and the lessons he gave. It was strange for Mycroft though to see his normally sullen brother acting human but it was rewarding as well. He could easily see that Maggie was a widow, her husband had drunk himself to death after the deaths of their children and he could see that Sherlock knew that too but knew that it was better for him to feign interest. 

“…My children, unfortunately they never survived into adulthood” Maggie answered her voice softening with sadness for a moment before she blinked and pushed it away “Come now, tea and biscuits. You’ll feel better once you’re warmed” 

The group moved through to the kitchen and it wasn’t long before he and Sherlock found themselves pressed up together on a small four-person breakfast table. Mycroft was closest to the wall and he was more than happy to be the furthest away from Bell and Maggie. Maggie was asking a thousand and one questions about mundane things and to his surprise Sherlock was answering them brightly as he drank down his tea. 

“My sister, you’ll find, is what is best to be described as a nosey parker” Bell chuckled looking completely different to the way he behaved at work and he remembered what the man had told him about having something that made him human. “But she had never been a gossip so anything you say will stay with her”

“Jo-Jo, you’ll give the worst impression of me” Maggie laughed her blue eyes shining from behind the glasses. She had a warm laugh which reminded him somewhat of his mother and he mentally cursed remembering that he had yet to call her again. He had tried when he had first found out about their visit but hadn’t managed to get through and had been too preoccupied since. “You’ve never brought people from work back with you before, I often wonder what you get up to down in London” 

“Given that you are more than happy enough to stay here I suppose that you’ll never know” Bell responded lightly and Mycroft gave a smile which he hid behind his cup deciding that the pair were much like he and Sherlock. Or at least how they should have been if they been raised differently. Mycroft felt Sherlock’s left hand rest against his leg for a moment and he forced himself to ignore the sensation that it brought. Sherlock soon moved away again taking several of the butter biscuits from the plate on the table. Mycroft tuned out the rest of the conversation finishing the tea and munching on a biscuit of his own. “Are you ready?”

“I believe that I am. Of course, Sherlock might manage to put away a few more of those biscuits, they are delightful Maggie” Mycroft sad pleasantly and Maggie beamed happily as she took one for herself. 

“I am just making sure to have some before you brother dear, we are both aware of how damaging they can be to your diet” Sherlock hummed playfully as he bit another biscuit and crunched it between his teeth “You’ve been doing so well recently, we wouldn’t want to do anything that might jeopardise that, do we?” 

“Indeed not, brother mine, shall we go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh…I’m sorry that this part is slow…There will be a time skip soon so don’t worry we won’t be going forever xD


	36. Chapter 36

The bedroom that they were showed to was barely larger than his shower room. There were twin single brass stead beds on either side of a chest of drawers decorated with a lacy dolly and more ever greens. Three of the walls were covered with wooden panelling while the other had been left with the grey stones and wooden support beams exposed. There were two watercolours over the bed depicting two blond children both playing around on the beach. They were two personal for them to be anything but paintings of Maggie’s departed children. The boy was wearing a sailor suit style and holding a boat while the girl against the window was wearing a white pinafore dress and a straw hat behind a rather fancy looking sandcastle. Bell gave a tight, somewhat apologetic, smile and then motioned for them to pick a bed. 

“My nephew and niece, my brother in law painted the images some time ago, anyway, I will leave you to get settled and freshened up” Bell smiled before heading back out the door and Mycroft was left feeling rather put out by the watery blue eyes that were gazing down at them. He was used to the oil paintings and the tapestries in his own home but they were of adults, long lines of Holmes stretching all the way back into Christendom. It was said that there had been a Holmes involved in every major military action since the dawn of time. How true that was Mycroft wasn’t sure but there was rather an impressive lot of stuffed shirts decorating the walls of their ancestral home but none of them were like the ones peering at them now. 

“Sherlock? Where would you like to sleep?” He asked pulling his gaze away from the blonde children to look at Sherlock who was studying him more than anything else. Wordlessly Sherlock headed over to the bed away from the window and placed down his bag and Mycroft silently cursed the fact that he had allowed Sherlock to choose but walked over and took the other bed looking out of the windows onto the garden and the highlands that were stretched out beyond. It was remote and rather beautiful if you went in for that sort of thing and he was surprised to feel a hand come to press on the small of his back and then an arm wrap around his waist. Sherlock’s nose and mouth pressed onto the back of his neck. It was a light kiss but it was indeed a kiss. Mycroft allowed his hand to come up and his fingers to intertwine with Sherlock’s on his stomach as he breathed shortly“Sherlock?”

“I understand that it would be imprudent for us to do anything sexual here but…I would enjoy a kiss” Sherlock hummed sounding almost as though he were pouting and Mycroft laughed turning from the window so that he could look at his brother and lover. Sherlock’s cheeks were heightened in colour and Mycroft reached up to cup his cheek, his thumb running over the pouting lips, before he moved forward and granted the younger man his request. Their lips moved together shortly and Mycroft even allowed himself to plunder Sherlock’s mouth a little with his tongue before he reluctantly pulled away deeply aware that either his boss or Maggie could appear at any moment. He could see the disappointment in Sherlock’s face as his pout increased and his brow increased “That’s it?”

“It would be unwise to do anything more, Sherlock” Mycroft hummed taking a breath to calm both the nerves and desire that had managed to coil its way inside of him. Sherlock gave him an almost glare but nodded slowly turning back to his bed and sorting out his clothes from his suitcase. Mycroft watched him pull out two neatly wrapped gifts and felt a tinge of sadness that there didn’t appear to be a gift for himself. He had brought Sherlock the scarf to go with the coat and gloves which his brother had stolen. It wasn’t an expensive gift but he hoped that Sherlock would like it. “Your gifts for Bell and Maggie?”

“Yes, I had the shop wrap them, your name has been added to the cardigan” Sherlock informed him, shrugging a little as he set them down onto the chest of drawers. Mycroft unpacked his own clothes hanging out his suits and shirts on the back of the door and then placing his own gifts down with Sherlock’s. Sherlock’s eyes widened with surprise when he saw the one addressed to him but Mycroft was sure that his lips twitched into a smile. “You brought me a gift? Although we don’t do Christmas?”

“As you said before it seemed like the appropriate thing to do” Mycroft shrugged as nonchalantly as possible not wanting to make an issue of the fact that Sherlock hadn’t done the same for him. Sherlock dropped down onto the bed causing the springs to creak loudly and Mycroft raised an eyebrow asking “Are you done?” 

“I suppose, I thought about changing but I suppose you wanted want me to do that in front of you” Sherlock teased his eyes flashing playfully as he searched his and Mycroft had to admit that he would enjoy the sight but knew that he couldn’t stay knowing that that would lead to more than watching. Realising that Sherlock was playing him he rolled his eyes and then slid his case under the bed before heading out of the room and leaving Sherlock to do as he liked. 

The cottage was strangely laid out and the room that he and Sherlock had been placed in was in the original part while up five more stairs there was another room in a more modern section. The stairs were set at a rather steep angle and he had to duck to stop himself from hitting a cross beam. Bell was sat in a chair with a large glass of brandy in his hand while Maggie was floating around in the kitchen shifting pots and pans as she prepared a meal. It was a cosy family scene that he had seen often with his parents. At that thought he sighed remembering that he had get to I touch with his parents and climbed down the last few steps and asked;

“May I use your telephone?”

“If you can get a signal thanks to the snow, there is one in the study” Bell answered pointing with a finger and Mycroft smiled bowing his head before going out into the study that he had been directed to. It took longer than he would have expected to be connected to his mother but it wasn’t long before she was saying brightly;

“Mikey, how are you darling?” She said loudly and Mycroft tried his best not to groan at the use of the nickname “And Sherlock?”

“We’re fine, Mother, I just wanted to let you know that we are out of town over the Christmas period” Mycroft answered “Did you receive your presents?” 

“Yes! Thank-you Mickey! Where are you?” 

“Bell invited us to spend Christmas with him and his sister I Scotland. I should go mother, I just wanted to let you know that if you need to contact use this number. Speak to you later”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that this is okay :)


	37. Chapter 37

When Mycroft had finished his phone all he headed back out into the main sitting room. Sherlock was down dressed in a casual pair of jeans, something that he was surprised about as he rarely saw them gracing the length of his brother’s leg, with a warm woollen jumper and a pair of boots. He looked good, better than good, though Mycroft had to admit that If it weren’t for a scowl on his face he would have looked like a regular teenager. He preferred Sherlock dressed in a pair of trousers and a dress shirt but he supposed that this look was good if he were intending to go out into the bitter cold again. Mycroft groaned internally but showed no outward sign of this as he hummed;

“You have only just arrived and now you’re going out?”

“I thought that I would take a walk before dinner, would you care to join me, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked putting on his coat and gloves and Mycroft looked almost longingly at the sit beside the fire but wanting to join Sherlock. His brother realised his choice and gave a little smile which could almost be described as more of a smirk. Mycroft was almost tempted to refuse but he had never been a man that would cut his nose to spite his face. Time alone with Sherlock was just what the doctor ordered and he knew that Bell and Maggie wouldn’t be joining them and he inclining his head slowly saying;

“I suppose that I should see to it that you don’t get yourself into too much trouble, mother sends her love by the way, and wishes you and Maggie all the best of the season, sir” They hadn’t but he was sure that she would have if hadn’t put the phone down so quickly. Bell smiled happily lifting his glass a little in acknowledgement. “If you just wait a moment for me to change my shoes, though admittedly I didn’t count on your refusal to sit still and have not brought boots” 

“I have some wellingtons that should fit, they’ve only been worn a few times” Bell offered merrily and Mycroft thanked his boss and then allowed himself to be passed a pair of dark green wellingtons. They didn’t match the outfit that he was wearing but they would do. 

“Dinner will be ready in around hour and a half. You should stick to the main paths the bogs can be rather dangerous during winter” Maggie told them coming out of the kitchen and fussing around Sherlock like a grandmother making sure that his coat was fastened and that he was indeed wearing his gloves. Sherlock bore it as best he could with even a smile on his face. His curls were ruffled and then he was pushed to the door. Mycroft followed and they were soon out in the cold air. They wandered their way through the garden and then out into the wild beyond. Unlike when they had been walking in their garden Sherlock stayed close to him. 

There was very little in the way of life. The sun had already set but there were still some light meaning that they could walk freely so long as they stayed on the path. The snow clouds had lifted and away from the light population of London Mycroft could quite clearly see the thousands of stars which graced the night sky. The moon was invisable and Mycroft was somewhat glad of it doubting that neither he nor Sherlock would have been able to cope with the sentimentality of it all. 

“Shouldn’t we have come out in the morning? Perhaps when we would have been able to see something” He pointed out when they had walked about 20 feet away from the house and Sherlock gave a shrug and then stopped walking and turned to look at him with his lips twisted into something of the same smile that he had worn in the bedroom.   
“Sherlock?” Mycroft froze as Sherlock moved forward and wrapped his arms around him tightly. Their lips met and he had to admit that that he was surprised that Sherlock was so enthusiastic in his kissing. 

His earlier resistance had appeared to have vanished and there was a warmth that he pressed into the kiss was somewhat overwhelming and he allowed his arms to wrap around the slim waist hating the barrier of the coat. He pulled his brother closer so that their bodies were flush. His tongue swiped against Sherlock’s lips and he parted them slowly allowing him to press in his tongue. They did a little dance together before parting so that they could look at each other. The smile that he was met with was something all-together too overwhelming and Mycroft had to take a moment to adjust. “You’ve gotten rather bold, Brother mine” 

“You rather inspire me” Sherlock joked a little kissing him again. Mycroft felt Sherlock’s fingers tangle through his hair and he make a mental not to fix his hair before heading back to the house. It was rather surprising given how much he ordinarily despised people touching his hair that he liked the feel of Sherlock's fingers against him. Their lips moved together again while his heart started to grow increasingly more rapid as he walked Sherlock back towards a boulder. It was too cold to sit him against it for long but it was enough support to allow him to devour Sherlock’s mouth for a little while longer. Sherlock moaned a little his nails almost clawed at his neck before he pulled away to look up at him. His pupils were a little dilated and his lips were shining somewhat as he smiled. 

“And the truth?” Mycroft asked with a chuckle remembering Sherlock’s earlier display of jealousy and deducing that he was trying to make him realise something he had already knew for certain. Sherlock was his and he was Sherlock’s. They needed each other like humans needed oxygen. His brother looked away and then muttered casually;

“You refused me in the house” 

“I didn’t refuse, I merely informed you of the fact that we are residing in the house of my boss. It wouldn’t do for me to be caught kissing my brother. So, that is what this was all about?” 

“Plus, I just wanted to kiss you. You are my lover as well as my brother, is that wrong?”

“As you said before Sherlock, everything about this relationship is wrong, however as we are to be cast already into the burning pits of hell, should such a place exist, I can’t imagine how one more act should matter” Mycroft hummed pecking at the lips again before allowing himself a smirk of his own as he asked “This has nothing to do with your misplaced jealousy on the train?”

“Nobody in their right mind would be jealous over you” 

“Then, for once in my life, I am lucky, that you are not in your right mind”


	38. Chapter 38

Mycroft lay in the bed and contemplated the wooden slats of the ceiling. Over in the next bed he could hear the calm breathing of his brother and he was filled with the insane urge to cross the distance between them and slide his body under the covers. Unfortunately, like everything else in the quaint county cottage, the beds were old and the springs tended to squeak loudly with only the smallest of movement. He couldn’t imagine having to explain that to both Bell and Maggie in the morning should they ask if they’d had difficulty sleeping. It was the truth however he was having difficulty sleeping, his body was aching with carnal desire brought about the kisses that he and Sherlock had shared. 

He and Sherlock had stayed out on the wild moor for as they could, exchanging kisses and silent promises. His skin was burning with the promise of their forbidden romance. It was complete and utter madness, he knew that and yet he was even more convinced that he didn’t want anything else but that. Letting out a sigh, a tiny insignificant sound, and then carefully rolled over on the bed jolting with surprise when he saw that Sherlock was also on his side staring at him. His green, blue eyes boring into his very soul, positive he was sure, were filled with the same deep longing as his own. 

“You should be asleep, brother mine” 

“As should you” Sherlock whispered in response and Mycroft felt his lips twitching with a smile. Again, he was filled with the deep urge to go to him but his mind was too fixed with his own pride and fear at being caught. “But here we are” 

“Yes, here we are, fools that we are” Mycroft muttered in agreement “Tell me again why we are here in the wilds of Scotland when we could be at home?” It wasn’t an overtly grand wish but after the intensity of the kisses shared it was an all-consuming one. Sherlock smirked looking thoroughly pleased with himself as though it was all working to his plan. “You are an impossible brat, Sherlock, what game are you playing, now?”

“I’m not playing a game, Mycroft, I just enjoy seeing you unfurl. You are normally so buttoned up that it’s amusing to see you frustrated” Sherlock answered with a half-shrug his eyes closing “Joseph is your boss and an old family friend, it is normal that we should be here at his invitation. Do you wonder if Rudi and Joseph…Knew each other carnally?”

“What’s this? Are you showing interest in somebody beyond your bubble, brother mine?” Mycroft asked with some amusement and Sherlock pulled a strange little face and then another little half-shrug before rolling onto his back and looking up at the same ceiling that he had been doing himself as he murmured lightly;

“Just mild curiosity. You knew Uncle Rudi better than I did, did he have a social life?”

“Beyond the habit to cross dress? I am unsure, he was even more unreadable than you and I, brother mine, who knows what secrets he had kept locked away in the wardrobe with his wigs” Mycroft gave a sigh following suit so that he could copy Sherlock. “Perhaps, the inner workings of our uncle’s social life nor do I spend much time thinking of my boss’ which is why I didn’t even know that Bell had a sister” 

“Bell I can understand but Uncle Rudi? You were never tempted to unravel while you shadowed him? You who wants to know everything about everyone that they meet?” Sherlock asked disbelievingly looking at him and Mycroft had to admit that there was something special about this. It reminded him of when they were young and Sherlock would talk to him well into the night about many things. It showed to him at least how far they had come. 

“That is your passion Sherlock, I just indulge you in it” He said before having to acknowledge that there was something he had seen once. Rudi dressed up, about to go out, there had been a happy smile on his face and he had suspected then that there was somebody “Perhaps, maybe there were something that implied there was somebody that Uncle Rudi was perhaps intimate with but I never knew who, perhaps it was Bell, perhaps it was Maggie”  
“Perhaps” Sherlock’s speech was slurred and heavy indicating that he was falling to sleep and Mycroft felt his own eyes grow heavy at the sound. He rolled back onto his side and then wrapped his arms around a pillow and murmured;

“Good night, brother mine” His only response was a snore and Mycroft gave a chuckle drifting off into a pleasant dream of his own.

The next morning found himself, Bell, and Maggie all settled around the breakfast table in a small conservatory. The large windows gave fantastic views of the moors and he was sure that he could see animals in the distance. Sherlock was outside the open door his violin up against the crook of his neck. His eyes were closed and he the music that was coming out of the instrument. As always, Mycroft was transfixed by the playing and he was almost irritated when Maggie said;

“Your brother plays beautifully. Something that I wasn’t expecting” 

“Mother insisted that we each play an instrument. Sherlock passed from one to another before seeing a beggar on the streets just outside Edinburgh castle.” Mycroft hummed remembering that day so clearly. Sherlock’s face as he looked at the vagabond. “The man wasn’t very good, he knew only one song I believe and only two chords but Sherlock was transfixed. He watched him for a long time I remember, that same song over and over, nothing we could do would draw him away and even insisted that mother hand over all the money in her purse” 

“If you’ll forgive me for saying that doesn’t seem like something that Sherlock would do” Maggie chuckled and Mycroft gave a smile of his own as he gave the smallest of nods. 

“Perhaps not now, but there was a time when my brother was almost frustratingly normal” He said and there was another chuckle from Maggie as she nudged his arm. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing” 

“For me it was almost a crime, but since that day, he studied the violin and yes when he wishes to the sound he creates can best be described as beautiful” Mycroft hummed thinking that it was an over used term but, like with everything else to do with Sherlock, it was the truth. “The composition is not one that I recognise. I imagine that it is one of the many that he has created…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was okay :)


	39. Chapter 39

“What was the piece that you were playing earlier?” Mycroft asked when they were on another wander through the wilds. Bell had wanted to accompany them but Maggie had wanted to go to the town before the main event the next day and Mycroft had been a little more enthusiastic about the whole thing after a sleep and a good breakfast. It would never be a favourite hobby but he could suffer through it while at Sherlock’s side. Sherlock was currently using the rocks and boulders as stepping stones so that he could stalk through the heather a little set away from him, once again looking like an average teenager in jeans and a jumper, his curls in disarray around his face. A faint smile curved his lips before he gave shrug and stopped walking so he could gaze down at him from his extra height and say;

“Just something that I have been working on for a few days, did you like it?”

“It was exquisite” Mycroft answered causing his brother’s smile to grow wider as he tilted his head a little to one side before he moved to sit down on the rock so they were looking each other directly in the face. Mycroft’s fingers moved quickly to wipe away an errant lock of hair from his brother’s eyes allowing them to linger a little longer over the skin than was strictly necessary as Sherlock smiled sweetly his breath brushing against his palm; 

“You say that about almost everything I play seriously” 

“Because when you play seriously you are exquisite, as is your music, it is a simple observation” Mycroft smiled stepping closer to his brother who delightfully parted his legs to allow him access before responding with a soft and somewhat confusing;

“I’m glad you liked it, after all, it’s you”

“Me?” Mycroft blinked at the revelation thinking back to the sweet music that he had hard played an hour before. It had been filled with many twists and turns, but it was nothing that he would have imagined to be based on himself. 

“Yes, you, I wrote it based on my own observation of you” Sherlock paused and then frowned a little with his head cocking to one side as he hummed softly “I suppose that it could be of me when I am observing you” 

“As always you make little sense, brother mine” Mycroft smiled looking up and down the lane before allowing himself to place a solitary kiss upon Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock responded to it quickly, their lips making something close to hungry sounds before they pulled away both knowing that it was foolish to indulge for too long just in case there was a local farmer lurking around. 

“In this I doubt that I could ever make sense” Sherlock huffed his head cocking very slowly to one sides as a small cute, confused pout formed over his lips. “But I will give you a copy of the music sometime and you can play it and perhaps it will make more sense for you” 

“I don’t play the violin” It was rather needless to point that out, mostly since they both knew that the instrument had bested him when he was only 13-years-old. “Besides I will simply ask you to play it for me again”

“Lazy, you play the piano and rather finely” 

“Never as well as you do the violin, brother dear” The eldest Holmes was a little reluctant to admit that there was something that Sherlock was better at than him but it was unfortunately the truth. He could play music but he couldn’t make it feel. Not like Sherlock could. For him the piano was just an instrument but for Sherlock the violin was an extension of his body. Mycroft knew that it was because he lacked the emotions that were perhaps necessary to play beautiful music. 

“Yes, your instructor told you that you lack emotion, you should try to play again, brother dear, I believe that you may have unlocked a little more” Sherlock sighed his face coming forward so he could press it against his chest Mycroft allowed the action tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. There was a chance that such a thing was true, his relationship with Sherlock had changed beyond he could ever have imagined there was a chance that his piano playing might had improved. 

“I can’t imagine when I would need such a skill” 

“I would like to hear you play, Mycroft, I always did. I would sit in the garden outside the piano room when you would play” Sherlock confessed and Mycroft had to admit that he was surprised. It was the first he was learning of that but in truth he could imagine Sherlock dressed as a pirate with Redbeard at his side sitting in amongst the roses outside their country home. It was an endearing image and he found himself smiling as he wrapped his arms around ever more tightly as he pressed his lips to the top of the curled hair. It smelt warm, which was surprising given how cold it was in the air around them and had a minty after taste. 

“Then I will play for you when we return, Sherlock are okay?”

“Fine, though I am about to do something which might reek of over sentimentality and I hope that you won’t dislike me as much as I am disliking myself” Sherlock said moving away from him and jumping down from the boulder. He chewed on his lower lip and his eyes were unfocused and seemingly nervous and Mycroft grew uncomfortable as he watched him. It was a stark and quick change from a few moments ago, and he could easily picture Sherlock wringing out his hands or running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Sherlock?” Mycroft reached out to him but Sherlock shrugged him off and then reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small neatly wrapped gift. 

“Your Christmas gift, I wouldn’t be able to give it to you tomorrow, given that it would bring about far too many questions” 

“You brought me a gift?” Mycroft’s eyes glittered just a little as he reached out and took the box his fingers ghosting against Sherlock’s before he brought it back “May I open it?”

“Of course, that is why I am giving it to you” Sherlock huffed pacing around again and Mycroft quickly began to open the neat little packaging which he suspected had been done by his brother. A velvet box was revealed and inside was a single golden ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are being almost stupidly sweet and romantic but...Urgh...I hope that i haven't ruined their characters too much >.


	40. Chapter 40

“Are you proposing brother mine? I’m flattered of course” Mycroft asked, not wanting to make jokes, considering the situation but it was how he handled things when emotions were too much. He made pointed jokes. Thankfully Sherlock was more than aware of his personality and merely rolled his eyes muttering;

“Don’t be stupid, Mycroft” 

“It is clearly a wedding band of some kind, Sherlock” Mycroft said taking the ring between his bony fingers and studying it for a moment. He had assumed that it was plain until he saw the inner part and noticed that inscribed were words that he faintly recognised when he read them aloud “Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind…Shakespeare, Sherlock? How cliché” 

“Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind. And therefore, is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgment taste—Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste. And therefore, is Love said to be a child, because in choice he is so oft beguiled.” Sherlock quoted softly his voice ringing clear with each word with the twang of public school boy. It should have sounded strange coming out of Sherlock’s mouth, his brother had been so sullen for so long, so often with a scowl on his face and a sneer that he had forgotten the boy that had loved poetry. 

The boy whom had sat for hours with his curled head on their father’s chest listening to him read. For all that their father was a simpleton he had managed to get a first in English literature. For a moment, Mycroft, had forgotten the boy reading the for the school plays that he would never audition saying that it was only for fools but Mycroft knew that Sherlock would have been a fine Shakespearean actor if he hadn’t changed. The sentiment behind the words was deeply clear to him and quickly he placed the ring upon his finger. 

The bitter chill of the cold metal caught him by surprise for a moment but it soon matched the little warmth of his hand. It looked strange against his skin and he couldn’t stop staring at it for what felt like an age before he looked back at Sherlock who had grown silent biting hard on his lower lip. 

“Thank-you, it is a beautiful endearing gift, though your choice of phrasing leaves something to be desired”

“It is you that believes yourself to be unattractive, Mycroft, not me, I merely used that quote to explain how it doesn’t matter” Sherlock came close to him again and placed his hand up onto his cheek so that he could lightly run his thumb against the delicate skin under his eye. “Unless you are telling me that your interest in me is only due to my features”

“You are the singularly most beautiful creature that I’ve ever seen, but no, the transport is not the reason that I love you” He breathed gently allowing himself to share a few more kisses with his brother the feel of the metal against his skin felt right even as it was strange and difficult. “I imagine that the person you brought it from must have asked questions” 

“Hardly, I should confess that was not worth a great deal, and beyond the brother that you see most would put my age to 20 at least.” Sherlock hummed confidently and Mycroft was prepared to admit that given his height and vocabulary it was possible for people to age him up a great deal “Young in this age to marry I suppose but not too young if I were to have had an accident and were doing the honourable thing” 

“So why I am I now wearing your ring?”

“Because, I shall be leaving” Sherlock announced with little flare or drumroll but Mycroft felt his stomach muscles clench as though he had been struck in the gut “After the Christmas season is passed, in the New Year” 

“Where?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does if you expect me to give you my approval, I still have guardianship over you” Mycroft reminded his brother harshly his earlier good mood ruined by the careless revelation that Sherlock had given out so quickly and coldly as though his opinion didn’t matter. 

“Joseph has gotten me a rather promising placement. Biochemistry and criminology. Hertford Collage” Sherlock sighed and Mycroft felt the wind leave his sails a little. There was no chance that he could argue his point now, not when it was clear that Sherlock was finally thinking of his future. He chuckled a little and then reached out to take his hand linking their fingers together as he hummed;

“You would want to go to Oxford” 

“You study there, at least when you can be bothered” Sherlock pointed out and Mycroft had to acknowledge that that was true. He did read a few subjects now and then. It was mostly things that he already knew but it was nice to have the papers to prove that he knew it. “I actually thought that you would be pleased” 

“I am pleased, but even with Bell’s connections I didn’t imagine that you would be able to attend. And at least not until the start of the academic year, at least” 

“I might be slow to you Mycroft but to everyone else I am above what they measure as genius. When Bell suggested it, I couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse to stay.” Sherlock looked troubled his eyes cast down onto their joined hands and Mycroft knew that to be the truth. Even if they were not brothers and just lovers it would have been difficult for Sherlock to find a way out of studying “For all that I am for going against the social norms in private alone with you, in reality I am aware of the problems that it would cause for you if our relationship were to be made known” 

“It will give me more of a reason to attend my own studies. But I can’t deny that I will miss you, brother mine” Mycroft smiled again and then tugged Sherlock into another languid kiss. Sherlock responded in kind his arms wrapping around his neck so their bodies could be brought together. It was a sweet moment ruined by the sound of voices in the distance. Quickly, they pulled apart with Mycroft pulling off the golden band knowing that he wouldn’t be able to explain it away until after they had returned home. Once he had explained it though he knew that it would never again leave his finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay ^_^


	41. Chapter 41

“My brother tells me that you were able to get him a placement at Oxford, sir, I am deeply grateful for the care and attention that you have shown to my brother” Mycroft told Bell when they were sitting together alone in the conservatory that night. Sherlock had persuaded Maggie to go for a walk in the gardens with him and although he was disappointed not to be asked himself the look on the old woman’s face told him that Sherlock had made her Christmas by asking. 

“Sherlock, more than you I think, reminds me of your uncle Rudi” Bell whispered in confessional tones leaning forward in his chair with his elbows resting on the arm rest. Mycroft nodded somewhat sadly at the observation. It was the truth. In character Sherlock was much the same as his uncle had been, there was always the danger that like his uncle he would drift into dangerous levels of depression. 

“My parents often said the same sir, they always said it which much fondness” Mycroft hummed his body tensing just a fraction at the thought of his Sherlock always being compared to a man that had woken up one morning and shot himself. 

“Your uncle was a remarkable man, young Mycroft, I remember him very fondly” Bell told him slowly and Mycroft felt the muscle in his eye twitch as he looked out into the garden for the form of his brother still standing with his back against the sky. The ring that he had been given weighed heavily in his pocket making him wish that he could place it on his finger. “But you, who cares about Sherlock only, sees the bad side of Rudi’s character and that association with your brother. When I spoke of Sherlock being like Rudi I didn’t mean only in his fits of despair. I meant in the goodness that I knew from him” 

“My Uncle was a great man, but one cannot deny that he had his moments” 

“I am not denying anything of the sort, Mycroft, I knew your uncle better than most” Bell gave a smile and Mycroft was unwillingly reminded of Sherlock’s speculation last night. “Our friendship started when he studied with me at Edinburgh University. I knew right away that he was gifted. Brilliant even” 

“The same could be said of you, sir” 

“I am just a faint speck compared to your uncle, Mycroft, and to you. Even Sherlock will surpass me in time.” The older man chuckled softly looking rather happy with that information “But he can’t do that alone. He deserves to have friends, peers, who can help rather than hinder him” 

“Even the finest minds of Oxford and Cambridge have nothing on my brother, sir” Mycroft hummed confidently knowing that any argument that he might have had for Sherlock to stay already driven out of his mind from the almost excited look that had been in Sherlock’s face when he had told him about the placement “But as I say I am grateful for the care that you are showing him and I agree that it would be good for him to have somebody that he might grow to trust. Sherlock himself seems to be excited by the arrangement but may I ask will he be boarding with somebody?”

“Professor Trevor. My friend. His son Victor is also a student there. Victor has kindly said that Sherlock may board with him for the duration of his stay, Sherlock and he got on like a house on fire when they met before” Bell told him and Mycroft tried his best to ignore the tensing of his shoulders at the mention of the name and the fact that Sherlock had already been introduced to this Victor Trevor. 

“I see, forgive me for saying sir, but I would like to talk to both Professor Trevor and Victor before allowing my brother to board with him” He said hoping that he was managing to keep his jealousy out of his voice. It must have worked as Bell simply gave a smile and nodded happily as he drank from his glass saying;

“I thought that you would feel that way. I promise that I will arrange a meeting for you. Ah they are on their way back I should make them a drink” Bell got to his feet and then scuttled off back into the house as Maggie and Sherlock came back over the grass. Maggie’s arm was linked with Sherlock’s and there was a smile on her face as though she had been in the middle of laughing at something that Sherlock had said and Mycroft wondered why he and Sherlock couldn’t be this way with their own parents. They tried and Mycroft was sure that they cared about them in their own way but they were never this easy around them. 

“Bell has gone to make a warm drink” Mycroft told them getting to his feet and motioning for Maggie to sit down. Sherlock sat down on the windowsill with his back resting against the window. Wind had ruffled his curls and Mycroft didn’t even try to stop himself from smoothing them out around his face. “Bell was telling me about your Oxford placement, brother mine, and your future roommate, Victor Trevor” 

“Dear, sweet Victor!” Maggie cut in happily her hands going to pick up a knitting magazine that had been placed on the small glass coffee table. Mycroft was a little surprised that the woman knew about the young person that Sherlock would be staying with. “Wee, Sherlock will be fine with him I promise, he’s such a good boy, I taught him when he was at Eton, I think that he’s about the same age as you are, Mycroft and very sensible. You’ll enjoy staying with him” 

“He seemed to have some intelligence when I met him” Sherlock mumbled his arms folding over his chest as he looked at him from under his lashes. Mycroft fixed him with another intense stare of his own his lips curving into a smile that wasn’t quite returned “Not quite as intelligent as Mycroft and myself but far more interesting than the dullards at school that I have had to deal with” 

“I see. Now that I have your glowing recommendation, Sherlock, I am even more eager to meet him” Mycroft said slowly and he was sure that Sherlock’s head cocked lightly to one side. A vein pulsed in his brother’s cheek and his lips curved into something close to a smile which vanished when Bell came in carrying a tray bearing cups and a teapot. 

“Tea and then bed, I think”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said before but I started writing this before I knew what was going to happen with the third sibling so she's not in it and Victor Trevor is very much alive in this story


	42. Chapter 42

Mycroft left the bathroom and headed into the bedroom that he was sharing with Sherlock. His younger brother had gone ahead of him to bed and he was half expecting him to already be dozing in the bed. He wasn’t. He wasn’t even on the bed. Sherlock had pulled their quilts and pillows from the twin beds and placed them down on the floor in between the beds. It wasn’t something that he wasn’t expecting and he quickly shut the door and slid the metal lock into place. 

“What are you doing?” The elder asked, his stomach fluttering almost uncomfortably, coming over to the little nest and Sherlock gave a shrug and a smile tugging him down. It was stupid and risky but Mycroft decided that for just tonight he could allow himself to let go. He knelt in front of his brother and placed his hands on his shoulders pressing light kisses to his forehead, nose, and then finally mouth. The touch of Sherlock’s lips against his felt as natural as breathing and he was soon lost in the feeling of it. 

Sherlock smiled against him kissing him back slowly but passionately as he wrapped his arms around him bringing their bodies flush together. For immeasurable minutes, they stayed together tasting each other’s mouth and caressing each other until their bodies had awakened with pleasure. He felt Sherlock’s penis drag against his stomach and it was enough to break him from the haze that had slipped over him since entering the bedroom. He pulled reluctantly out of the kiss and gazed at his brother noting his blown pupils and the delicate flush which decorated the high cheek bones. His lips were already swelling with the force of the kisses that they had shared and were glittering with a dusting of spit. “Sherlock, we can’t go further” 

“I understand that, but just a little” Sherlock sounded like the child that he had been asking for a second helping at dessert or to stay awake as long as Mycroft himself. In the past, the tone had never worked, or at the very least he had been more resistant to it. Now though he found himself moving forward and sucking the pouty bottom lip into his mouth and nipping it lightly between his teeth. His hand moving down to touch at the straining organ that he could feel against the light fabric of Sherlock’s pyjama bottoms. It was so obscene that the thought of his brother’s penis could make him feel hot, to make his own strain further to the point that it was almost painful. Sherlock’s bottoms were almost already sodden with the dribbles of pre-ejaculate that were being released. Mycroft handled it slowly rubbing his hand in circles on the top of the penis before gripping him slowly around the fabric. Sherlock’s hips bucked upwards trying desperately to get some more traction going as his mouth moved more furiously against his as attempt to stifle the sounds of his voice. 

Both fortunately and unfortunately given their location, Sherlock wasn’t completely successful and Mycroft was treated the musical sound of Sherlock’s moans swirling around his ears. It was as glorious as any of the music that he had played and it caused Mycroft to grow bolder in his actions. He alternated his movements between hard and soft making sure to add the slightest of twists to the movement of his hand. Sherlock’s breathing grew heavier as he rocked into him more his hands coming down to copy the movements on Mycroft’s own hard shaft. 

The danger of it, coupled with the thoughts of the ring now back on his finger, caused the sensations to swell and serge inside of him and he moaned himself. Long and as throaty as he dared with the knowledge that his boss was sleeping barely feet away from them. Sherlock appeared to have thrown caution completely out of the window in his desperate need to come undone. It didn’t take long. They were both still so inexperienced that the orgasm followed shortly and they forced themselves to swallow down each other’s moans. Sherlock’s hand continued to move and Mycroft kept his own moving through the sweet aftershocks which thundered through them both. 

Eventually they sagged down into the nest of blankets and pillows with Sherlock’s head resting against his chest. Their hands were quickly wiped on a vest that Mycroft would bury in the bottom of his suitcase when he was ready to move again. His body was still trembling with the happy aftershocks and it didn’t help that Sherlock was stroking the skin of his stomach with his fingertips. 

“I cannot believe that you got me to do that” Mycroft growled into the top of the curled head but he felt Sherlock smirk as he rolled his shoulders in a shrug saying;

“You enjoyed it too, Mycroft” 

“Indeed, but as I am the eldest and without the luxury of being even a teen, I should have had a stronger defence” The eldest of the brothers moaned closing his eyes as Sherlock cuddled into him a little more and then let out a sigh as he got comfortable humming almost sleepily;

“You enjoy it when I make you come undone, Mycroft, and it is already too late for us to be worrying about having a stronger defence. Quote me something. If it helps you may think of it as my Christmas present” 

“I’m not father, Sherlock, I have not the voice for reciting poetry” Mycroft sighed but immediately he searched through his memory for something suitable and then eventually he hummed “Oh, Beauty, passing beauty! sweetest Sweet! How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs; I only ask to sit beside thy feet.” Mycroft wondered for a moment if Sherlock would mock his choice of Tennyson but instead Sherlock hugged him ever more tightly rubbing his face on his chest “Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes, Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold my arms about thee—scarcely dare to speak. And nothing seems to me so wild and bold, as with one kiss to touch thy blessèd cheek.” The overwrought desperate sentiment of the poem was not lost on him or Sherlock but it was describing the emotions that he felt deep inside. “Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control within the thrilling brain could keep afloat. The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke, the bare word KISS hath made my inner soul. To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note. Hath melted in the silence that it broke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that this is okay 
> 
> Poem was Beauty by Alfred Lord Tennyson


	43. Chapter 43

Mycroft woke to the delicate feel of being watched and as his eyes flicked open he wasn’t disappointed to find Sherlock sitting up in their makeshift nest watching him with an almost blank expression on his face. Even with a pale creased face and sleep rumpled hair Sherlock was bewitching to behold. Their room was still cast in darkness and there was a very distinct chill to the air now but he Mycroft noted that more blankets had been added to the pile on the floor to combat the cold. 

“Sherlock? Is everything okay?” he asked reluctantly pulling himself out of the nest of blankets so that he could sit up and look at him more clearly. His expression changed just a little the corners of his lips turning up at the corners as he hummed;

“Your snoring woke me” 

“Liar, what’s troubling you?” Mycroft asked noticing the flicker of something that was in his eyes. It was almost the same look of melancholy that he had witnessed before they had confessed to each other. He reached out and placed a hand on his cheek allowing his thumb to move over the bad dream. He didn’t say anything but they didn’t need any. His question was in his eyes and slowly Sherlock let out a sigh and then settled himself against his chest. Mycroft allowed his arms to wrap around the lithe younger form and rested his chin on his shoulder as Sherlock whispered;

“Just a bad dream” 

“What about?” He asked and he was unsurprised when Sherlock bit on his lower lip looking stubborn. Mycroft gave a sigh and kissed his neck before saying in a firm tone “Sherlock, tell me” 

“They were meaningless, just dreams, and unless you’ve started to study Fraud” Sherlock stopped himself and then let out a soft sigh before correcting himself with an almost jovial sounding “What am I saying? You have probably studied him and made corrections to his theories” 

“Not particularly, stop stalling Sherlock” Mycroft chuckled not wanting his brother to know that he had in fact studied the theories of Fraud and the others in his field when he had been bored one weekend and he had found it all rather dull and tedious. “What were the horrors that were waiting for you as you slept?” 

“Nameless faces and harsh voices, the same things that always wait for me. Sorry that it isn’t anything too taxing for you to puzzle over. My nightmares are all rather dull, Mycroft, and nothing for you to trouble yourself with” 

“When they keep, you awake they are. When was the last time you had a full night of sleep? I don’t really remember.” Sherlock sighed bringing his hands up to rub at his temples “My mind rarely completely lets things go. Everything is always jostling around for attention” 

“Because your attic is being filled with too many useless things. Have you been deleting the things that are not important?” Mycroft knew that his brother had learned the same memory technique as himself but unlike him he had rarely learnt to build up the walls correctly and store the information. It had been the same for him when he had been younger and it had been uncle Rudi who had given him the correct exercises needed to control what he picked up. Sherlock pouted a little and turned to look at him the best that he could as he pointed out;

“You rarely seem to have that trouble” 

“Bigger attic, brother mine, I’ve always been the smart one. I store and process information in the same way that you do, but I have a bigger area to work with.” There wasn’t any arrogance in Mycroft’s voice, it was a simple statement of fact which they both knew and Sherlock treated it as such rolling his eyes just a little before shuffling out of his arms and twisting around in the little nest so he was staring at him in almost a meditation pose with his legs crossed and his hands on his knees. 

“How do I know what I should delate and what I should keep?” He asked in much the same way he had down when Mycroft had first told him about the technique “You always said that I should observe everything and if I wish to continue in my chosen profession then that is the best option” 

“Of course, for the duration of the case I fully agree that you should store that information, Sherlock, but once it is done toss it out with the rubbish” 

“The three-month rule?” Sherlock smiled referring to his own way of dealing with physical clutter. Surprisingly enough for a man who lived in a rambling old pile just outside of London filled with odds and ends that various and numerous members of the vast family tree he loathed clutter and disorder and anything that wasn’t either useful or decorative was subjected to the three-month test. If he hadn’t used it for three months he clearly didn’t need it and into the charity box it went. 

He had been that way since he was a child. Many a Christmas gift from his parents had ended up in the hands of the local school children though his chemistry set had vanished into Sherlock’s bedroom only a few days after the event. His mother hadn’t been pleased, though he imagined that was more due to Sherlock trying to burn down the whole east wing. 

“Of course, brother dear, though I imagine that as soon as you have solved the case you should learn to let it go. For now, we should learn to delete the beatings and comments that you received at that pathetic excuse of a school” he half growled still remembering the marks and bruises that had decorated his brother’s body when he had first arrived to live with him. He had already gotten his revenge on the school for not dealing with the bullying his brother had received. Funding had been cut and there had been a gentle word in the ear of some of the many trustees meaning that next year the academy wouldn’t be quite so prestigious in the eyes of the high echelons of polite society but he had wanted to do more and when he learned the names of those that had inflicted abuse on his brother he would do. “We shall go through the basic technique again now and then work on it again tonight” 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sleep?”

“I would rather you be able to, brother mine, and before you vanish to Oxford. I would rather not have you going to Trevor’s room when you are unable to sleep. Now close your eyes”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was okay


	44. Chapter 44

“Thank-you, Mycroft” Sherlock whispered later when they had remade their beds and began to head downstairs to join Bell and Maggie for Christmas day. Already he could hear movement and the loud singing from Bell himself. The raucous sound booming its way through the house in a rather tuneless but happy version of ‘Deck the Halls’. It sounded very much like a Christmas with his parents and he reminded himself to phone them and wish them the very best of the season. His gifts for Bell and Sherlock were in his hands and Sherlock was carrying the box for Maggie. 

“You’re welcome, brother mine, as I said we will work on it again tonight” Mycroft replied with a smile his hand brushing against Sherlock’s back before they moved down to the living room. Last night when he and Sherlock had headed to bed the tree had been almost empty of presents, save a few from the people in the village, now it had groups of presents here and there in amongst the branches. 

“Ah, finally awake?” Bell smiled cutting through his song as he noticed them. In his hands was a large tray teaming with candid fruits and berries. “I wish you all the very best of the season” 

“And you, sir” Mycroft responded slowly moving to the tree and dropping down his own gifts noting that more than a few in the piles bore his name and Sherlock’s and he supposed that a team of assistants and Maggie had been dispatched to buy them when they had learned that they would be spending the season there. Maggie came bustling through from the kitchen bearing a try with Foamy hot chocolate which Mycroft guessed was laced with a little bit of holiday spirit. “A very merry Christmas to you, Maggie” 

“And you young Mycroft, but stop standing on ceremony it’s Christmas after all, have a drink and breakfast and then we can open gifts” She said happily setting the drinks down onto the small coffee table. Sherlock was soon doing as he was told and after making sure that his brother was no longer haunted by shadows from the night Mycroft settled himself down. 

Christmas with the Bell’s was a sedate but joyous affair with gifts, feasting, wine, and thanks to Sherlock and Bell music. As the day started to end they headed down into the village and spent the evening in the village hall. It was something that he and Sherlock were uncomfortable with and Mycroft finally took pity on Sherlock and led him out into the night. 

“Are you sure you wish to steal me away, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked with a teasing tone and Mycroft allowed himself let out a chuckle knowing that neither Bell or Maggie would question their need to leave. Neither of them were social butterflies, though Mycroft knew that he would have to learn to pretend to be when he finally claimed Bell’s position. It was the only thing that he wasn’t looking forward to about the job but he supposed that imagining Sherlock naked and panting was probably a good way of dealing with boring MPs and clueless Prime Ministers. 

They walked back to Bell’s cottage together and when they were away from the lights and crowds he reached down and took Sherlock’s hand their fingers linking together as he whispered;

“Out of the mid-wood's twilight. Into the meadow's dawn, Ivory limbed and brown-eyed. Flashes my Faun! He skips through the copses singing, and his shadow dances along.” Sherlock stopped walking to look at him. Snow had been falling steadily since they had left the party and already Sherlock’s curls were decorated with puffs of it, as where his extremely long eyelashes and quickly Mycroft brushed them away as he finished the poem “And I know not which I should follow, shadow or song! O Hunter, snare me his shadow! O Nightingale, catch me his strain! Else moonstruck with music and madness, track him in vain!”

“I thought that you detested reciting poetry” Sherlock smiled as the poem came to an end and they continued walking. It wasn’t the best bit of poetry that he knew but it was by one of his favourites, Wilde, and he hoped somewhat that Sherlock could remember him reading it to him once a long time ago. 

“I do, but as I have read to you since you were first born, I suppose that it feels rather natural” He said with a roll of his shoulders checking behind him to make sure that nobody had followed them out of the party and could see them. Sherlock let out a somewhat depressed sounding hum, the joy of the day faded a little as he said;  
“Although we are anything but” 

“True but we are natural choices for each other, Sherlock, nobody would be able to understand you the way that I do and nobody would be able to understand me the way that you do” Mycroft was determined that he would put down his uncharacteristic display of sentiment to the joy of the day or the season. It wouldn’t be believable as Sherlock knew his feelings about the forced sentiment of the year but at the moment his own embarrassment was crushing him “We are the two parts needed for one glorious whole.”

“You have become very accepting of this” 

“I have never been one to fight inevitability, brother mine, that was always more your area” Sherlock smiled a little at that clearly remembering the times he had tried to fight a predestined outcome. Sherlock always had been the more imaginative of them for all that he had a logical and scientific mind. “If you had remained natural about me then I would never have forced your hand or seduced you but as it is clearly what we both so desire then who am I to fight it?”

“The man who will one day rule, the world?” Sherlock turned to face him his earlier temper shook off with his words and his eyes were playful even with the snow still stubbornly clinging to his lashes and the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes still deep. 

“Only the small part of it that we occupy, Sherlock” Mycroft reminded him knowing that it was the truth. The world had no interest for him. It was too big for one man to run alone. Oh, that wasn’t to say that he wouldn’t mind advising on the way that it was run but, like the many Holmes’ before him, he was comfortable with just the UK.   
“Why do something that is so much hassle?” 

“And you constantly say that I am the lazy one. I do it for the same reason that Bell did, that great-grandmother Agatha did and the scores of Holmes’ before. Because we can, and because we’re good at it. Now come, I calculate that we have exactly 35 minutes before Bell and Maggie return home, let me warm you up”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was okay :)


	45. Chapter 45

Mycroft smiled a little as he rolled over and found Sherlock asleep beside him. They had once again made their nest upon the bedroom floor and as promised he had thoroughly warmed his beloved brother. His hands and mouth had carefully and gently teased Sherlock’s body to a state of complete and utter pleasure. Every cell in his body had sang with the sheer joy of it before it had cascaded down and he had released into his very welcoming mouth. Mycroft had then rubbed himself off against Sherlock’s thighs and much to his embarrassment he was positive that when he released he had told his brother that he loved him. It was strange, something that he had never believed that he would experience as he had never believed that anybody would ever reach him. 

He often thought that he lived in a world of goldfish. He saw the world from so many angles all at once and he couldn’t understand why other people couldn’t. Hope had come in the form of his brother. His last chance that somebody might have the same intellect as himself and, although he was a little slower, Sherlock had been his saviour. Sherlock had allowed him the chance to have somebody that didn’t think him strange, who looked up at him with nothing but adoration in his ocean coloured eyes. He had never thought that their relationship would progress to this but, as he had told Sherlock earlier, they were the only thing that made sense. 

“Sherlock as regretful as I am to wake you. You are on my arm brother dear, I need it back so that I might go to the bathroom” He breathed hating his bodily functions and his inability to control when he might need to urinate. It felt downright cruel to wake him when he knew that Sherlock was having genuine difficulties in falling to sleep but if he didn’t leave soon he would be doing something incredibly embarrassing right there on the bedroom floor. 

When it became apparent that Sherlock wasn’t going to wake easily he decided to try a new tactic and hugged his brother into his chest tightly before rolling him away. It was a clumsy thing to do but eventually he could shift him enough and he could withdraw his numb arm. He moaned at the ticklish painful sensation which rushed over him and then he hurried out of the bedroom. 

The wooden steps were so cold it felt as though he were walking on icicles. Regretting his choice of not putting on a pair of slippers he hurried himself as quickly as possible stopping dead when he found Bell leaning heavily against the sideboard. The happy jovial expression had cleared from his face and he appeared pensive and there were more than a few tears rolling down his face. His eyes were fixed on a simple black and white photo of two young men. They were dressed to the nines and appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. For a moment, Mycroft thought it to be a picture of Sherlock but realised rather quickly that it was his uncle Rudi. Twin brandy glasses were out but only one was still full while the other held remains. 

“Silly old fool that I am” Bell hiss before grabbing the other glass and draining it back with a flourish before turning and catching sight of him still standing at the bottom step. Mycroft had a moment of sheer panic as he tried to come up with an explanation before he saw that Bell was embarrassed and in no mood for conversation. 

“Sir” He said, simply jerking his head at his boss before hurrying to his intended destination. He closed the door with a snap and then made his way to the toilet half hoping that Bell would be gone once he had finished. 

The flushing of the toilet behind him Mycroft stepped back out. The kitchen which had been in darkness a moment or two before now had the light lit and Bell was washing the glasses just used. He said nothing but his ears were pink, stained with the embarrassment at being caught in an intimate moment. For Mycroft, the scene had settled his brother’s question, at least in part, it was clear that Bell held an affection for Rudi though if it were returned he had no idea. “Good night, sir” 

“Good night, Young Mycroft” Bell replied sounding a little relieved that he wasn’t the curious sort and Mycroft nodded slowly glad that it had been him and not Sherlock who had happened on the scene. Before his realisation of his feelings for Sherlock the emotion of the moment would have confused him and he perhaps would have thought less of his boss for it. Now he could understand. If something were to happen to Sherlock. He would carry on, he knew that much his own personality wouldn’t allow for him to do anything but that, however he would have been less than half a man in doing so. His brother brought out the best and the worst of him. 

Slipping back into his and Sherlock’s shared bedroom he was saddened to see that the younger Holmes was awake and looking rather rumpled. He was sitting up in the middle of their makeshift nest his eyes searching his. 

“Sorry, Sherlock, did I wake you?” He asked softly locking the door and coming to the bed surprised that instead of answering Sherlock’s arms snaked around his body and held him close. His head connected softly with his chest and Mycroft gave a chuckle resting his cheek on the curled head before tilting them both backwards so they were again laid on their backs looking up at the high beamed ceiling. “I think you were right” 

“I often am even if you don’t believe so” Sherlock responded and Mycroft wondered how anybody could possibly sound smug at the same time as being sleepy “what about this time however?”

“Bell and uncle Rudi, I believe that they were lovers” 

“Rather a pity that uncle Rudi shot himself then, why did he do it, do you think?” Sherlock hummed and Mycroft rolled his shoulders in a little shrug trying to remember what his uncle had been like in the months and weeks leading to his death. It was difficult. Rudi had seemed the same as ever until one morning he had taken a gun and shot himself. 

“He went mad Sherlock” 

“Madness is a Holmes family trait, rather like having red hair, we don’t normally shoot ourselves over it” 

“No, we would rather shoot other people, but dear uncle Rudi never liked playing to type, Sherlock” Sherlock’s answer was a sleepy little hum and Mycroft smiled rubbing his face into the soft hair before allowing himself to drift back off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm...I hope that this is okay ^_^


	46. Chapter 46

Boxing Day was a rather quieter affair with Maggie and Bell going to dinner with neighbours. They had been invited but as Bell was acting rather awkwardly around him Mycroft had refused on his and Sherlock’s behalf without guilt. Sherlock had, of course, been perfectly fine about staying and they had spent the free time alone having tasting each other with their mouths and exploring with their hands. Mycroft made sure to wear his ring while they were alone and the sensation of it must have pleased his brother as he was very fond of touching it as they walked around the garden admiring the views. It wasn’t ordinarily something that he would enjoy, much preferring the home comforts of town but as it was he found himself deeply enjoying the sights with Sherlock at his side. 

So, can the delights of Scotland tempt you away from your beloved city Sherlock?” He asked coming up behind him and wrapping his arm around his waist deciding that he would buy them a getaway home somewhere nobody would know them as anything but lovers. 

“The browns, the olives, and the yellows died. And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed. Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide. And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed. Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed” Sherlock hummed in response the poem ringing clearly over the fields. “From off your face, into the winds of winter. The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing; But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter. When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing. And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.”

“Was that a yes or a no?” Mycroft chuckled awkwardly having to admit to himself at least that the sound of Sherlock reciting poetry moved him in ways that he would never have expected. His voice was a clear as their father’s projecting each syllable with certainty. 

“It was a no, brother dear, nothing could tempt me from the city, for that is where you live” Sherlock stated with all the brashness of youth and Mycroft felt a happy swell flourish inside him as he hugged him a little more tightly as pressed their cheeks together saying;

“And if I were to move to the wilds of the Scottish Highlands?”

“Is that likely to happen any time soon? Can you run what is left of the British Empire away from its heart?” 

“The Queen often stays here” Mycroft chuckled his lips ghosting over a mole which decorated Sherlock’s neck. He had decided to claim it as his favourite place to kiss, his own little mark that nobody else would know about. Sherlock allowed the kiss and then turned to look at him with a smirk and lifted eyebrow as he said;

“She doesn’t run a country, Mycroft, she just decorates the money. Though if you’re really keen on the job I’m sure we could find you a crown and a rope of pearls” 

“I rather don’t think that they would suit me” He chuckled wondering if he could have imagined that they would have been like this at this point last year. Last Christmas he had stayed in London and Sherlock was off doing whatever it was that he did. Sherlock beamed at him kissing the tip of his nose before brushing some snowflakes away as he said with a charming smirk on his lips;

“We could always borrow some of mummies to see if that will.”

“I really don’t think so Sherlock, mummy would think that I have become like uncle Rudi. I really doubt that I would look as fetching, you on the other hand…” 

“If you picture me in a ballgown our relationship is over” Sherlock bit out flashing him a glare before marching away with his hands clasped behind his back. The elder Holmes laughed and then, in a moment of gaiety that he had not known since he was a child, he picked up a handful of Snow he pressed it into a ball and threw it at his brother. It hit Sherlock squarely in the back and he stumbled forward before he turned and threw one back. Neither of them were the type to play in such a way and neither of them were dressed for a game but still they played running this way and that pummelling each other with the snow until they were breathless and frozen.

“I see that your day has not been altogether wasted” Bell’s voice came brightly from the doorway of the house and Mycroft was positive that he flushed with a brightness at being caught like this. Sherlock was looking just as flushed though he managed to hide it under a scowl. “Come away in now and have a warm drink the pair of you” 

“Thank-you, sir, did you have a good meal?”

“Yes, her Majesty does enjoy a good spread” Bell said and Mycroft’s eyes automatically went to Sherlock who appeared to be struggling not to laugh remembering like he was their conversation “She was saddened not to have the company of Rudi’s nephews but she hopes that she will meet you soon” 

“I apologise, had I known that it was her Majesty I would have of course been delighted to go” Mycroft said though weighing up the two he would still have picked spending his day with Sherlock over the queen.

“There is time yet for such things” Bell smiled as they approached his embarrassment at being caught last night having obviously worn off. The friendly glint was back I the bright blue eyes “you are only young once, Mycroft, you made the right choice. Now hot chocolate, I’m sure Maggie will be fussing over if you’ve eaten or not in a few moments” 

“Ah, we haven’t as it happens.” 

“Come away in then and I will get you both something” Maggie called and Bell gave a laugh touching his nose as he ushered them in to the warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear christmas is almost over Mycroft's meeting with Victor Trevor will be soon :)


	47. Chapter 47

“You’ll come back again?” Maggie asked as she saw them off at the small village train station. She was wearing the pink cashmere cardigan Sherlock had purchased for her under the woollen coat Bell had brought. Her eyes appeared to be glistening with tears and Mycroft was surprised when Sherlock, quite unbidden, smiled pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Of course, and you should come to London where we could thoroughly spoil you” 

“Away with you” Maggie chuckled hugging him back with all the force his parents would show. Sherlock accepted it with grace however and returned it tightly “I’ll hold you to that, Sherlock Holmes, you see that I don’t. Thank-you for coming and making my Christmas” 

“It was a privilege and an honour, Maggie” Mycroft put in as he too was engulfed in a firm hug. His body reacted on its own, stiffening as it always did at the mere thought of intimacy from anyone other than his brother but he squashed it down and took it for what it was. He even allowed himself to give her a one-armed embrace in return. “Thank-you for making Christmas an enjoyable one” 

“Though you really shouldn’t have given him all those sweet things. He’s already struggling to fit into his clothing now” Sherlock chuckled poking at his non-existent stomach with his finger and Mycroft rolled his eyes releasing the older woman and glaring at his brother. Sherlock gave him a bright smile his eyes flashing with a promise of making up for it later and he knew that his teasing was down to them trying to pretend that they were something normal. 

“Perhaps I should allow you to have the sweet things, Sherlock? It is unlikely but it might allow for your personality to become a little less bitter” 

“As pleasant as your company has been Maggie, I must admit that I am looking forward to having my own room again tonight, away from Mycroft’s snoring” Sherlock shot back reminding Mycroft that he could at any point call off their evening plans. He had after all told him how much he was looking forward to the idea of tonight and them being alone together. “One more night of his whistling breathing and I’m afraid I would have been arrested” 

“Well we couldn’t have that, could we? You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you didn’t have your brother to torment” Maggie chuckled as Bell returned form the ticket office You are very much the same in personality and temperament, aren’t you?”

“In a lot of ways. But from what I understand of it from Rudi Mycroft was always young Sherlock’s favourite. Hated it when Mycroft wasn’t in the room with him and Mycroft was the same, devoted to his brother” Bell smiled allowing Mycroft to feel some relief. The older man had been avoiding being alone with him since that night and he was worried that the tension between them would ruin his future. It would make it awkward to shadow him for any great length of time but he wasn’t quite sure how to bring up the matter.   
“Strange that you were such a friend of Uncle Rudi’s and yet he never brought you to visit” 

“Different generation Sherlock, Rudi was uncle to your father after all and he spent much time in London. I met your parents a few times, and Mycroft of course, when Rudi brought him down” Bell gave a short nod and a smile in his direction but kept his face on Sherlock’s. Mycroft had been sure that his mood had improved on Boxing Day and the air had thawed around them but it still felt as though there was a barrier between them. 

“When he stole him away from m…the country” 

“You mean you? Rudi did say that you gave him quite the glare the day he separated you from Mycroft” Bell laughed and Mycroft’s mind went back to that day easily. In his mind, Sherlock, hadn’t made a fuss, he had vanished into his bedroom claiming that he was working on something. He had seen him staring out of his bedroom window when he had been driven away. Now, he saw Sherlock’s actions for what they were and he gave a very small smile. Sherlock pulled a face and then turned his attention to the other people waiting for the train that was due any minute. “You see, no matter what they say, the Holmes brothers care about each other” 

“I’m sure that you’re right” Mycroft hummed his mind on the ring in his breast pocket. He had decided that after they had been home he would wear the ring from then on. The train hissed into the station with a clicking and clacking of the carriages. Maggie began fussing in earnest over Bell and then Sherlock before turning to him and taking his hands tightly in her own. 

“Take care of yourself Mycroft, if Jo-Jo pushes you too hard just give me a phone call and I will give him an earful for you”

“Thank-you, and as Sherlock says you should come visit us in London”

“Don’t think that I won’t, don’t be too difficult with young Victor when you meet him. He was a sensitive lad when I knew him, he’ll take care of Sherlock” Mycroft continued to smile though he wasn’t comfortable with the knowledge that going home meant losing Sherlock’s company as early as next week. 

“Yes, thank-you Maggie, I’ve arranged for a meeting with him when I take Sherlock up to Oxford. I’m sure that you’re right but I would be happier to know that my brother is with somebody that I can trust” He said and Maggie gave him a smile and pressed her hand to his cheek. Sherlock was collecting his suitcases as he spoke and he rolled his eyes very slowly before hurrying to the train. “I should get aboard, thank-you for everything, Maggie” 

“And you Mycroft, I shall see you both soon” Maggie blinked away a few tears and then smiled as she ushered them both to the train. For this part of the journey there wasn’t any first-class seating but as there wasn’t many other travellers it felt rather like first class and Mycroft saw that Sherlock had already claimed two seats and had his nose in a book. Mycroft sat himself down opposite his brother and allowed himself to take a breath glad to be going home and longing for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew Christmas has come to an end but don't worry there will still be plenty of sweet moments for these two...


	48. Chapter 48

The Holmes town house was in darkness when they finally arrived back and Mycroft let out something of a breath of relief that they had returned safely and that their familiar belongings were all about them. Sherlock stomped his way through the main hall and dropped down onto the long stool so that he could pull off his shoes soaked in the slush that was clinging to them. The winter season appeared to be well and truly over for London and the outlying regions meaning that the streets had become rivers over slush and soggy leaves and already that was trailed into his hallway. 

“Brother mine, you could have wiped your feet” He hummed slowly doing so with his own shoes before moving into the cavernous space. After the cosy comfort of Bell’s country cottage, the house seemed impossibly large and his voice echoed a little uncomfortably around him. From his seat, Sherlock gave him a glare and then, as they were alone together, proceeded to stick out his tongue as he started to unfasten the buttons of the long coat and allowed it to slip slowly from his shoulders. “No matter what you will always be a brat, brother” 

“A trait that you cannot help but to find endearing about me, don’t deny it” Sherlock smirked getting up and coming over to stand in front of him his hands resting easily on his arms. If there was something that he could say about their time with Bell and Maggie was that their relationship had progressed out of the awkward stages and that they were finally comfortable around each other. 

“I will not. I own freely that I enjoy the banter between us Sherlock, but if you would tone it down when we are not in company, it would be gratefully appreciated” He said with just a touch of a smile forming on his lips as his own arms wrapped around Sherlock’s waist bringing their bodies flush together. Sherlock’s smile deepened until the point that a dimple formed just under his lower lip as his eyes sparked with playfulness his head cocking to one side as he hummed;

“Ah but then I would find it too difficult to keep up the pretence, brother dear, if I were to keep changing how I am to address you. If I let slip just once it could spell complete and utter ruin for us both. Uncle Rudi’s oddities may have been forgiven, sleeping with your brother on the other hand…” 

“The final taboo” 

“Quite” Sherlock nodded slowly his smile fading as he pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth and wrapped himself around him like a second skin “No matter how indifferent I act and how much I find what you do boring, Mycroft, I won’t be the one that ruins everything that you have been working towards” 

“And what am I working towards?” Mycroft whispered walking them both to the seating room. Sherlock’s words touched him more than he would ever be express with words. It hadn’t been a promise but for Sherlock it was as good as and it showed that his brother knew what was important to him the same as he recognised that Sherlock had an interest in crime and wanting to be a detective. 

“More even than even Rudi and Joseph, you won’t settle only for the power they have. No matter what you say, you will control the world” 

“Only the parts that we are in Sherlock” Mycroft told him for the umpteenth time as they finally reached the warm living room. A low fire was burning in the grate made up by his small team of staff who he rarely saw but knew everything about. He had told himself that it was his job to know, he handled sensitive information after all but in truth he just loathed the idea of strangers going through his things. Setting Sherlock down onto the hearth rug he built up the fire a little more and then joined him taking the ring from his pocket and handing it back to Sherlock who looked hurt and confused for a length of time it took him to say “I want you to give it me back, Sherlock, and from this moment on I will only take it off so that I might clean it”

“Have you become a romantic?” Sherlock smiled brightly again his fingers brushing over the ring with his thumb before he held it up Mycroft rolled his eyes and then slowly flicked his nose with forefinger as he muttered;

“No more so than you for buying me the ring. You did it so that people might think that I was already taken while you are in Oxford” 

“I’ve seen the way people look at you, Mycroft, even if you do not see it. There are many that desire you even if you are too blind to see it” Sherlock muttered his cheeks glowing a warm pink in colour. Mycroft chuckled to himself a warm happy feeling inside his chest that Sherlock felt so strongly about him even if his fears were completely unfounded. 

“And you, but I trust you” 

“I trust you. It’s just a ring Mycroft, if you do not like it…” 

“I do, and from the moment you put it back on my finger I will not remove it for more than five minutes together, I promise” Sherlock nodded and then took his right hand. “Why not the left?”

“We are not as married couples, Mycroft, let me do it this way” Sherlock breathed the ring slipping over the finger as he stared directly into his eyes and whispered “Of all my loves this is the first and last. That in the autumn of my years has grown. A secret fern, a violet in the grass. A final leaf where all the rest are gone. Would that I could give all and more, my life. My world, my thoughts, my arms, my breath, my future. My love eternal, endless, infinite, yet brief. As all loves are and hopes, though they endure. You are my sun and stars, my night, my day. My seasons, summer, winter, my sweet spring. My autumn song, the church in which I pray. My land and ocean, all that the earth can bring. Of glory and of sustenance, all that might be divine. My alpha and my omega, and all that was ever mine…” 

“Sherlock” Mycroft managed to get out before moving forward and hungrily claiming the sweet lips. The romance of the moment was for his benefit, he knew that, Sherlock had often teased him his liking of old romances and novelettes but here he was fulfilling his hearts every romantic fancy and he could do nothing to reward him but kiss the air from his lungs as he pressed him down into the thick carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm…They’ve gone completely sappy now >.< I hope it’s not too sugary sweet. 
> 
> Thank-you for all the kudos on subs on this story :) it makes me so happy :)


	49. Chapter 49

“I would have thought you would have wanted me on the bed, Mycroft. Are you sure your back can withstand much more of this?” Sherlock chuckled a little later when their desires had been stated. His head was on his nude chest and they were sharing the indulgence of a cigarette passed between them. The warm fire was casting a delightful glow on the pale skin around Sherlock’s buttocks, so much so that he was prepared to forgive the insult. He drew on the cigarette and then held it for Sherlock to smoke as he let out a smoke ring and before saying;

“I’m seven years older, Sherlock, not seventy, besides the bedroom would have still been cold” 

“For sure. I have no idea why you keep up this mausoleum” Sherlock breathed through a plume of smoke from his mouth. Smoking shouldn’t be sexy, Mycroft thought, but the delicate why the grey smoke curled around his face and the ember of the cigarette lit up his eyes. “A flat in London would suit you much better” 

“This is our family seat Sherlock” Mycroft hummed drawing on the last of the cigarette and then tossing the nub into the fire before allowing his hand to trail up and down Sherlock’s back delighting in the goose-pimples that formed on the near perfect skin. “Why would I give it up?” 

“Mother and Father have” 

“They are old, Sherlock, and are rarely in the Country and when they are the country cottage suits them much better. You should be thankful they gave up the Midland’s manor to the National Trust” Mycroft smiled as Sherlock’s nose wrinkled cutely remembering the many horrors of staying in their Momma’s manor as children. Unlike their Grandmother, their momma was nothing short of an idiot, very much of the same mould as their father, and each day had been like a torture to them both but Sherlock the most as she had adored him and bide that he stay beside her as much as possible.

“You still have apartments in there, don’t you?” His brother asked now and Mycroft nodded slowly. It wasn’t as though he had given up the manor it was just much more open to the public than this home. It saved on cost as most repairs were subsidised from the trust. 

“I have an arrangement yes. It is somewhat like here, though there only the third floor is free from tourists” 

“I could never understand why you allow people to wander about in here, Mycroft” 

“The same reason that our ancestors did. There is very little point in having power if you don’t show it off” Mycroft replied with a shrug. It wasn’t strictly the truth but he was rather proud of their ancestral home even if it was rather stuffy of him. They were one of the only wealthy families that had been always on the right side of every major war and upheaval that Great Britain had suffered and for that fact they had done rather well. It wasn’t as if the most intimate areas were free for tourists. Even this room was off limits to visitors and he was glad of that. 

“And yet you are very willing to be the hidden power behind the throne. You like to contradict yourself so much, Mycroft” Sherlock sighed rearranging himself around him so that one of his legs was now wrapped around his own and his arm was more casually wrapped around his waist and his mouth was resting against his nipple. 

“Not all of us are as straightforward as you are, Sherlock. If you’re going to sleep, we should head upstairs to shower and then a bed” Mycroft shook his brother’s side to keep him awake chuckling as Sherlock let out a whine. 

“I wasn’t going to sleep” 

“Liar, come brother dear, you can shower first while I warm the bedroom” Mycroft helped a reluctant Sherlock to his feet and then dressed him into his shirt and coat before propelling out of the study and into the main hall. Central heating would be the next thing that he put in though how he was going to do it and keep the original features that people paid to see. There was an older system put in by a relative but it was old and cantankerous often failing when heat was needed the most. It was an odd thing to be thinking about as he guided Sherlock up the main staircase but the shivers that his body were fighting had set it squarely in his mind. 

“Mycroft, are you planning on having children?” Sherlock asked and, although he would never show it, Mycroft was rather thrown by the unexpected question and he wasn’t quite sure what Sherlock was asking. 

“…Why would I do that, Sherlock? And how would I do so? I have explored your body quite thoroughly and I highly doubt that you would be able to carry them” 

“As if I would if I could. I merely wondered at you not wanting to pass on your intellect” Sherlock said touching on something which had crossed his mind more than once. 

“Show me a woman who may match you in mind and body, Sherlock and I shall produce an heir. Until that day dawns brother mine, I am happy enough as we are” 

“So, that the Holmes line dies with us? Are you truly happy with that?”

“Sherlock, I loathe children in all forms, you were the only one that was somewhat tolerable. Even if I were to have a child who is to say it would have my intellect? It could end up like mother and father” Mycroft chuckled as Sherlock gave a shudder at that thought. Their mother wasn’t so bad he supposed but their father, a simpleton to the last “Yes, the stuffy, traditional, part of me is sad that the Holmes line will die with us, but if that is what is to happen then it will happen. You could always produce an heir Sherlock, if you’re so worried about it” 

“I’m not. I just thought that stuffy, traditional, part of you would win out” Sherlock turned and stared at him with a thoughtful expression in his green blue eyes as his head cocked ever so slightly to one side. Mycroft allowed himself a little eyeroll and then pointed in the direction of the shower room. 

“If that were the case, Sherlock, I wouldn’t have given in to my passion for you, now shower while I build up the fire” Mycroft turned sharply on his heel and attended to the fire taking the logs from the metal bucket and his iron poker. He didn’t hear Sherlock leave but could sense that he was no longer staring at him and he sighed heavily realising that even if he had known Sherlock his whole life there was still much that he didn’t truly know about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay ^_^


	50. Chapter 50

“Are you accompanying me today?” Mycroft asked as he dressed slowly in front of the full-length mirror, looking at his brother, who was lazing around in the large bed with a cigarette perched in the corner of his mouth and some papers on his legs. Mycroft wasn’t completely sure what he was doing but it was a well-established routine now. The younger Holmes pulled a face, his nose wrinkling rather cutely as he pouted and huffed;

“Why would I bother? I will be there next week anyway, I would rather laze around here all day while you go and intimidate Victor” Mycroft felt a tiny muscle pulse in his cheek at Sherlock’s casual mention of the name but he managed to say casually;

“I don’t plan on intimidating anybody, Sherlock, I simply want to meet the person that you will be living with. As your guardian, it is my right and my duty” 

“Sure, that’s why you’re wearing your best suit?” Sherlock let out a chuckle rubbing out his cigarette in the gold-plated ashtray before crawling over the bed so he could fold him into a tight hug, his chin hooking over his shoulder. Mycroft gave a sigh cursing himself his own weakness to his brother as he brought his hand up and pressed it through the soft curled hair. It was so impossibly soft, even with the sweat that was clinging to it from their earlier bout of love making. “Mycroft, please don’t scare him too much, I do have to live with him and he seemed to be in possession of some intelligence” 

“I see, and what is he reading?” He asked as stiffly as possible wondering if Sherlock knew that he was doing very little in reassuring him while he was speaking almost warmly about another man. Something that he had never done before. He tried to remind himself of the ring he was wearing on his finger but he couldn’t deny that he was worried that his brother might fall as easily for somebody with less complications. Their parents, for all their faults, were broadly liberal-minded and they would be welcoming of a boyfriend for Sherlock. Given what the dunce of a therapist had claimed when they were children they would have welcomed any form of partner for their youngest child though he knew that they would never forgive them for this. Or perhaps they would forgive Sherlock but it was highly doubtful that they would forgive him. 

“Medieval Literature and as special interest the romantics.” Sherlock answered and before he realised he was doing it Mycroft let of a mocking scoff from his nose fearing that the person Sherlock would be living with would be a younger version of their own father. “Don’t scoff to loudly, Mycroft, you yourself enjoy pieces of romantic poetry” 

“I’m just scoffing at the idea of you living with such a person.” Mycroft defended himself turning in Sherlock’s arms so that he could look at his face seeing that his brother was amused over angry he allowed himself a smile “He will drive you to distraction within a week” 

“Perhaps, but I got the feeling that he was rather intelligent, at the very least he wasn’t a complete dullard. Of course, he wasn’t as bright as you but I imagine that is a good thing” Sherlock pressed his lips to his and, if there was more time Mycroft would have melted against him and allowed his brother to coax him back to bed as he had done every morning since arriving back from Scotland. Bell had allowed him an extra week off from work and he had been more than delighted to accept it under the pretence of getting Sherlock ready for his move to Oxford but the reality had them doing anything but exploring each other and basking in their mutual affection for one another. “You are going to be late” 

“I will if you don’t release me Sherlock” He smiled his arms snaking around Sherlock’s nude form for just a moment before sense prevailed and he could reluctantly untangle himself from the snake like arms. “Are you sure you do not wish to accompany me?” 

“Don’t you trust me, alone?”

“I don’t trust that I would have much of a home left when I returned” Mycroft sighed dramatically knowing that he was now delaying the point where he would have to leave Sherlock. It was almost terrifying how much he had allowed himself to be swept along at Sherlock’s pace and it was even more daunting that Sherlock knew that. The younger man gave a slow and steady roll of the eyes and then sighed;

“Then you will be happy to note that while you’re off frightening college students I will be spending the day with Joseph, does that settle your nerves brother dear?”

“A little though I am sure you and Bell could find enough trouble between the pair of you” Mycroft smiled surprised to see that Sherlock’s face fell a little as he murmured;

“Perhaps though today we will be spending our time in a hospital. Mycroft, you really should be gone already” Mycroft blinked taking out his pocket watch and groaning a little at the time. “I might not be home when you return and if I am Joseph will be with me so you should try and keep your greeting to me as brotherly as possible” 

“Indeed, thank-you for the warning” Mycroft allowed himself to roll his eyes just once before kissing the pouty lips and then turning and leaving the room as Sherlock flopped back into the bed. He walked down the long grand staircase realising that a small part of him hated Bell for forcing Sherlock into the position of being his support.

Sherlock was already fragile and without the understanding of how to process his emotions. His defence now was as it always had been when dealing with emotions he would rather not feel, to pretend that he didn’t have them. It worked for the moment but when Bell died his brother was going to be heart broken. The other part of him though recognised that Bell needed support and who better than to offer it then Sherlock who looked like Rudi. He knew that if he were in the same position he would hunger for Sherlock even if it was a likeness only. In the hall, he paused for a moment trying to shake the image of losing Sherlock from his mind. It wouldn’t happen, he would see to it that it wouldn’t Sherlock was his own love, his precious one and if he thought for one moment that the stress of being with Bell was too much he would stop it and offer himself in his brother’s place. 

With that thought in mind he squared his shoulders and pulled on his new coat allowing his mind to stay fixed on his meeting with Victor Trevor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was okay ^_^


	51. Chapter 51

Oxford was the same as it always was with the ancient sprawling buildings standing out clearly against the backdrop of the wintery skies. Most of the students had yet to return from winter breaks meaning that it was a relatively easy journey from the station though a few of the more determined had stayed to study. Trevor, being the son of a college master, lived permanently at the college and he had been shown to Master Trevor’s rooms by a rather portly porter in a bowler hat. The rooms were on the top floor of the college and were placed in much the same way as his own study. After being told to sit he chose the more imposing on the chairs and then decided against it. His height was his best feature and he knew that sitting would leave him at something of a disadvantage. Instead he leaned himself casually against the fire place his eyes fixed on the door. 

It was several minutes before it opened and a young man, about his own age came through. It wasn’t every day that Mycroft admired the physical characteristics of a person but even he couldn’t fail to see that the man in front of him was beautiful. He was tall and slender, graceful in his movements as he walked into the room with an eager and yet curious expression on his face. His lithe body wasn’t painfully thin as Sherlock’s was but held firm muscles from time spent rowing. His hair was a soft brown and cut short on his head which informed him that his hair was almost curler than Sherlock’s was. His face was slim with high cheek bones and piercing blue eyes. Artfully styled stubble graced his chin and around his top lip and Mycroft could easily understand why such a man would be interested in both Medieval Literature and the Romantics. The only things that stopped him from looking like a true Byronic Hero himself was that instead of a brooding expression he had a friendly smile and he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. 

“Victor Trevor, sir, the porter said that you wanted to speak with me” The boy spoke politely and Mycroft noted that even with their similar ages he had addressed him as sir, recognising their differences in status. 

“Mycroft Holmes” Mycroft replied briskly using the time for his name to register to read all that he needed to know about him. Victor was earnest, hardworking, popular from what he understood of such things, and yet studious. His very essence declared that like his father before him, he was there to learn and study. Having three younger siblings of his own it appeared that Victor Trevor was prepared for the difficulties that might befall him for having a younger roommate. The smile which tugged at his lips grew a little bit as the rest of his expression relaxed. 

“Sher’s brother? You and he don’t look very much alike” 

“His blessing I feel” Mycroft responded dryly knowing that it hadn’t been Trevor’s intention to insult his looks but a very small part of him was irritated that he hadn’t been born with the looks of the man in front of him. “Forgive me for intruding upon your day, I am sure that you would have better things to do so I will get straight to the point. If Sherlock were to come to any harm while he is residing with you I will hold you thoroughly responsible” 

“Sher said that you would make threats” Trevor smiled his hand brushing at the curls on the back of his head a minute before coming over and lounging into the sofa looking completely unfazed by his threats and Mycroft felt a vein pulse in his temple at the second use of the idiotic nickname for his brother. “I promise that I’ll look after him while he’s here. I have two little brothers, one is about the same age as Sherlock I know how worried I would be if he were like him” 

“Excuse me? What do you mean?” Mycroft probed slowly his eyes unblinking as they stared down at Trevor who had the good grace to look a little startled and nervous before he said carefully;

“…Gifted? Special” Mycroft sighed at the choice of words. He had heard them all in the life span of his beloved brother and he wasn’t all that surprised to hear them now. The hack that had been sent to study him had a lot to answer for as Sherlock had seen fit to believe it. 

“My brother is indeed gifted and I worry about him” 

“I can understand that” Trevor smiled easily again his entire face relaxing once more. Mycroft sighed, a little irritated that he hadn’t yet managed to have the same impact that Bell had. He supposed that it was fine though, Sherlock would have been irritated with him had he outright threatened the man in front of him and as much as he wanted Sherlock to stay in London with him he was delighted that Sherlock seemed to have some understanding and clarity of what he wanted to do. 

“He is not academically minded…He is…What people would refer to as a genius but he finds the slowness of academia to be rather tedious” Mycroft wasn’t completely sure why he was saying any of this to Trevor but he needed to know that the man would put up with and be able to cope with Sherlock’s rather more tiresome personality traits. If only he could take time and come back to Oxford on a more permanent base but Bell’s time was growing short and he had his own career to think of. He was almost sure that Sherlock would resent him if he were to put emotions before reason. Trevor looked surprised but nodded slowly before saying it what he seemed to think was a reassuring way;

“I understand that. Joseph Bell has explained a lot to both me and my father. My father is looking forward to having such an eager student of criminology I fear that I rather upset the apple cart when I preferred Literature over his preferred field” 

“My own father would have been delighted if Sherlock or I had followed in his footsteps” Mycroft allowed himself a little bit of a smile before sitting down in the chair and staring Trevor in the eyes properly trying to work out why somebody so young would take on the responsibility of looking after Sherlock. Trevor looked back at him bravely never seeming to hide anything and gave the appearance of being open and honest and Mycroft supposed that all he could do was accept him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Probably anti-climactic…I’m sorry  >.< Victor Trevor's looks is based on Tom Hiddleston (Yeah…I’m still sad that he wasn’t in it :/)


	52. Chapter 52

“Your father isn’t in? I was hoping to see him as well” Mycroft askes when it became clear that there was nobody else home and Trevor shook his head slowly before explaining in soft tones;  
“My parents went to visit my grandparents in the lake district with my younger brothers, they will be returning at the weekend” 

“I see, I’m sorry that I took up so much of your time” Mycroft slowly rose to his feet again and Trevor did the same offering him another broad smile his somewhat dazzling blue eyes finding a warmth they shouldn’t be able to given how icy they appeared to me. The young man shook his head and waved a hand as though it were no trouble at all. 

“It was no bother. I hope that I could reassure you” Mycroft gave a short nod neither confirming nor denying the words. In truth, meeting Victor Trevor had done nothing to reassure him, in fact, even with the bite of Sherlock’s ring upon his finger he still felt apprehensive that he would be leaving his brother with somebody like this. He almost made it to the door before Trevor asked “Would you like to see the rooms? They are on the college grounds not too far away” 

“If you have no issue in showing me then I thank-you.” Trevor continued to smile and moved ahead of him to let him out of the master’s rooms and back into the white stone hallway. “Do you share with anybody else?”

“Until the start of this term I did, may I ask what you read? Sherlock was all rather vague about”

“A great many things, unlike Sherlock I find academia to be tolerable” Mycroft knew that if Sherlock were here he would snort and say that he just wanted to prove that he was a master in everything. It was something of the truth but even if he had found it rather dull, languages coming to him in a matter of hours, text books read and assays finished within a day, he enjoyed the strictness of the lessons and there was always some fun to be had in correcting the teachers. 

“I see, I’m actually rather envious of you and Sherlock. I would love it if the lessons came as easily for me” Trevor moaned as they moved down a set of original wooden stairs that were rather creaky. The wooden panels lined the walls and Mycroft knew why he felt so at home here. It was old England, ancient, filled with the finest minds. Sherlock wouldn’t like it, it was too old and traditional, but Mycroft decided that he could persuade him to find some enjoyment there. There were plenty of secret places that they might find time to be alone. He brushed the thought away quickly and then let out a sigh knowing that he had to focus on the man beside him.   
“It is certainly very useful” 

“I bet, this way” Trevor led him through the courtyard, the immaculate lawn standing a bright green against the stone bricks. The light was barely coming through from the thick clouds above them and Mycroft imagined that there was a very real chance of some sleet coming before long. His heels clicked against the cobble walkways while Trevor rattled on and on about his own courses and Mycroft tuned him out trying to work out how Sherlock was going to get on with somebody that rattled on so quickly. The residences soon came into view and Trevor bowed at a porter before showing him up another flight of stairs. The door to Trevor and Sherlock’s room was unlocked and it was the work of only a moment for Trevor to throw it open with some relish and stomp inside. 

The rooms were a model of cleanliness and Mycroft smirked again wondering exactly how Trevor would get on with Sherlock in such a space. Sherlock brought chaos wherever he went and Mycroft suspected that only he could control him. Most of the furniture was what came with the room and he decided that it would suit Sherlock as much as any room would. “Sherlock, will be using the room on the right” 

“I see” Mycroft moved over and pulled open the door to poke his head in slowly. The room was bare barring a bed and a wardrobe and he knew that was good enough for Sherlock who liked his bedroom to be rather Spartan. “A nice appointment of rooms, though I highly doubt Sherlock will allow you to keep your rooms so clean” 

“My rooms aren’t normally this clean. I just haven’t been using them” Trevor admitted and Mycroft gave a laugh nodding as he turned to look him over. Trevor had sat himself down with his legs crossed out in front of him with hands playing with Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury’s Tales. It was one of the more obvious examples of the Medieval Literature but he imagined that it was required reading for the young man’s course. “Do you approve?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Are the rooms good enough and do I meet with your approval?” Trevor grinned brightly his blue eyes dancing in his face a little as Mycroft pulled his eyes away from the book and the way that the long graceful fingers were playing around with the pages. They reminded him of Sherlock’s hands only they didn’t appear to be stained with chemicals or have scars from burning. 

“I should imagine so. I will be coming weekly to check on my brother” 

“I would have thought you would. I do hope that we can become friends, Mycroft” The eldest Homes would have scoffed aloud at the words if he had thought he could get away with it without coming across as rude. He had no friends and he didn’t need them much less somebody that would soon be living with his Sherlock. Almost unconsciously he allowed his fingers to move over the ring. As promised he hadn’t removed it save for washing his hands and he allowed himself a little smile before pushing it away and turning to the window noting the increasingly dark sky. “Looks like rain, if you’re planning on leaving soon allow me to call you a taxi to take you to the station”

“Thank-you but I have another meeting with the master of my own college” Mycroft bowed his head at the man in a stiff but polite nod about to turn away when Trevor scrambled quickly to his feet. 

“Then allow me to walk with you, I was going to the Bodleian this afternoon anyway, we can walk that way together” Mycroft frowned a fraction surprised that Trevor knew that his college and the Bodleian were in the same direction but he accepted the offer with another nod hoping that his meeting with the master wouldn’t take too long and hoping that Sherlock was okay with Bell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh…Mycroft will be home with his Sherlock soon…>.


	53. Chapter 53

Mycroft strode under the clock archway of Edward’s college. It had been a while since he had last made his way into his college and he was glad that it was near deserted. Trevor really had headed to the Bodleian and he doubted that he had ever been so relieved to get away from a person in his life. It wasn’t as though he had been anything more than chatty in their walk towards his college which was a fair good walk away from Sherlock’s. It was disappointing but he doubted that anyone would question him walking the distance when he was staying here. It would be expected that two brothers would want to spend time together and after that there were plenty of places around Oxford which would allow them to take some time alone together. 

Gardeners were attending the lawns which were synonymous which almost every college in Oxford and they bowed their heads in his direction as he walked to the main entrance. The wooden doors were closed but easily yielded under the pressure of his touch. The door swung open with the barest hint of a creak revealing the grand hallway. Black and white tiles stretched out before him creating a spiral pattern to the main staircase. 

This had been his mother’s college and her portrait stood proudly at the centre of the stairs along with other alumni who the college had felt deserving of a place upon the wall. He hadn’t really chosen the college for the sentimentally, although his mother had been extremely happy about it, but that it had had several of the lectures that he had been interested in. He walked slowly through hallway to the stairs and allowed his palm to run over the polished wood. His feet made no sound on the plush carpet. He found himself almost nodding at the picture of his mother but then carried up the stairs to the second and then third floor. 

A painting of the founder of the college stood at the top his severe face peering down at him from a long-hooked nose and hooded eyes. His mouth was set into a thin and disapproving line and Mycroft wondered if he were a relative. He knocked slowly on the brass plate and then rocked back on his heels he hadn’t needed a room here as one of the many properties that the Holmes’ owned was a small flat on the main street but he had long since allowed it to let and his gentlemanly side refused to allow him to force the residence out. If he had not already moved forward in his career he would have been all too happy to do so and come and live here permanently with Sherlock. As it was not, he was certain that he would be allowed a room in the college but he had thought it best to arrange things with the master himself. Of course, one normally went through the housing department but the Master was an old family friend. 

“Come” A sharp voice barked and Mycroft pretended not to be irritated by the terseness of the voice and he pushed the door open. The Master’s office was much in the way one would think of a master at Oxford. Old fashioned and with shelves and shelves of books on every available wall. The master himself was sitting at a large wooden desk. There appeared to be several assignments in front of him and there was a thick pair of glasses sat on his nose. His hair was in a mess and Mycroft could easily imagine the man tugging at the greying locks while swearing about idiots. The master of Edward College looked up at him for a moment and then relaxed his back straightening so quickly that it gave an audible click. “Mycroft Holmes, I had no idea that it was you at the door. How are you? How is your mother?”

“She’s fine, master, I believe that she and my father are still touring America” He smiled as politely as possible as the Master got up from his chair and pulled him into a tight two-handed handshake.

“The college is closed until tomorrow” 

“I’m aware of that master, I apologise that I have been absent” Mycroft said with a smile moving to sit in the chair in front of him. The man had been at the college with his mother and Mycroft had always suspected that the man was rather miffed that she had chosen his father instead. Timothy Smithee removed his glasses and threw them down onto his desk saying;

“Come now, we both know that you have no real need for lessons, I wish that the same could be said for these” 

“Perhaps, master, but occasionally I do enjoy the environment of the college…” He was lying of course, he hated having to be around all the people and the noise but he knew that it was what Smithee liked to hear. No matter he said he was very much of the happy opinion that students should be in an educational environment. Indeed, the old man’s eyes sparkled brightly as he leaned forward in the desk his fingers grasped together tightly as he said; 

“Indeed, a debate is the best setting for a young mind” 

“That much is true. I am hoping that I could attend more regularly, but the issue is Master that my family flat on the high street is currently occupied. I’m not clear on the current level of students” 

“I’m more than positive that we can find you a place. There is no issue on that score, Mycroft, you should know that” 

“Thank-you, sir, as I am something of a difficult case, I didn’t dare to presume…” Mycroft smiled as brightly as he could, leaning back into the chair and peering that the master as the older man gave an airy laugh saying;

“As if I would deny a Holmes; but I’m quite sure that you didn’t need to come all of this way to talk about a room. Not when you could have done that over the phone” 

“But it was much politer to ask you, Master and I was in the area on another matter. My brother Sherlock will be studying with Professor Trevor in St Sebastian’s. I was just with his son but unfortunately he wasn’t there so I was wondering what kind of man is Professor Trevor?” 

“I only know him from passing, he seems keen, young, I suppose, very much like his son in looks. His students call him arrogant, but I suppose that every young person thinks that of their teachers. Sherlock will be in good hands, Mycroft have no fear on that”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edward’s College and St Sebastian's were just made for this story. in my mind Edward's is situated near Trinity College while St Sebastian's is nearer to the castle


	54. Chapter 54

Mycroft pushed open the front door of his home with a somewhat pained sigh. His journey home from Oxford had been tedious and fraught with annoyances. There had been a stag party aboard the train with him and they had grown infuriatingly rambunctious as they moved towards London and all he wanted to do now was get himself out of his clothes and have an extremely long bath. All his trip to Oxford had served to do was tell him that Sherlock would be living with an extremely handsome and intelligent young man, who seemed to have the confidence that he didn’t possess. He pulled his coat off and then toed off his shoes and slipped into a pair of slippers which he had left warming against a vent that morning. He allowed himself a small sigh of happiness at the warmth around his toes and then headed towards his sitting room wondering if Sherlock had already returned. 

A sound coming from the unused ballroom halted his steps and he turned to walk back to the opposite end of the main hall. The door was closed blocking most of the sound from coming out but every now and then he could hear bursts of sound and somewhat hesitantly he pushed open the door shocked by what he found inside. An old record player had been set up and the speakers were playing a song that he had to think about for a moment before he realised that it was Engelbert Humperdinck singing The Last Waltz. If he could remember correctly it had been a favourite of his uncle and he could that it was shared with Bell. 

He and Sherlock were waltzing rather skilfully around the room and Mycroft felt a muscle in his eye which did little to relive the headache which had taken up residence behand his eyes. Of course, had long since accepted that Bell’s feelings for his brother were nothing but grandfatherly but currently moment the elder man was lost in the moment his icy blue eyes were seeing another face. His hand was gentle about Sherlock’s slim waist while the other gripped Sherlock’s in a perfect position. The differences in their heights were just enough so that it didn’t look completely foolish. 

Sherlock had a smile about his face which was endearing and understanding as they moved and for a moment Mycroft thought that he could leave the room fearing that he had interrupted something that he should not have witnessed. Humperdinck was doing his best to create a mood of melancholy and felt truly pained that his brother was being put through this but he could sense that Bell needed something after what must have been a harrowing day. 

“Through the good and bad we'd get along. And then the flame of love died in your eye…” Humperdinck sang and Mycroft saw tears form in Bell’s eyes as he gripped Sherlock just a little more tightly as though he were afraid that he would vanish within a moment. “My heart was broke in two when you said goodbye. I had the last waltz with you. Two lonely people together. I fell in love with you…” 

Bell spun Sherlock around as the song came to an end and he was surprised to see that Sherlock sang along with the remaining lines. 

“The last waltz should last forever. It's all over now. Nothing left…” The song ended completely and the dancing pair turned to look at him. Mycroft almost felt as though he should applaud but judging from the look on Bell’s face as one of true sadness and he knew that the moment would be completely ruined if he were to do something so callous. 

“Welcome home, Mycroft, how did you find Oxford?”

“Much the same as anyone finds, Oxford, Sherlock. I do have a headache so I will take some pain relief and then head up to my bed, good night, Sherlock. Bell” Mycroft jerked his head slowly in their direction and turned leaving the ballroom behind. Mycroft went to the kitchen first and pulled out some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet leaning himself against the counter and rubbing his temples with his fingertips. It did little to soothe away the tension but the action was what he needed to distort the image that he had just seen. 

“Today was the day Uncle Rudi and Joseph met” Sherlock hummed gently behind him and Mycroft turned slowly his eyes looking over his shoulder. “I think that you catching him in such away upset him, Joseph said to tell you that he hopes you recover and he has swiftly taken his leave” 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so fond of dancing to such music” Mycroft hummed softly his headache too much too truly snipe at Sherlock or display his jealousy at what he had just seen and the anger at the anger he was feeling that soon his brother would be going away to live with somebody else. Sherlock’s lips twitched into a little smirk and he moved closer his hands coming up to grip at either side of his face his thumb moving above each of his eyes. The eldest Holmes sighed at the action his eyes closing as some of the tension did smooth away some of the headache away. 

“Joseph requested it I went along with it. Please do not tell me that you are jealous of Joseph again, Mycroft? That is growing rather tedious” Sherlock paused for a moment his green/blue eyes searching through his face before softening a little “You really do have a headache, come, let us go to bed” 

“I highly doubt that that would soothe away my headache” Mycroft chuckled his eyebrow lifting just a little and Sherlock rolled his eyes just a little moving away to pour a glass of water. 

“No, but I would be able to run you a bath and wash your back” Sherlock smiled and Mycroft had to admit to being overwhelmed by the thought of such an almost human gesture from Sherlock. “Or would you not think me capable of that?”

“I think you capable of a great many things but I had not expected you to do something so completely human and sweet” Mycroft frowned just a little a wave of pain washing around his mind. He swallowed it down but Sherlock’s head cocked gently to one side as he gave him a playful smirk. 

“I’m lucky that only you heard me, brother dear, come have your medication and then let us go to bathe and then to bed” He breathed and Mycroft moved towards him pressing his lips against his gently glad that he was home and that they still had time together before he had to lose Sherlock to Trevor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’ve made Bell a tragic character while Sherlock stepped right out of character i'm sorry >.< but hey-ho, the last Waltz was my grandparents favourite song.


	55. Chapter 55

The water was steaming hot as he stepped into it and he sighed with a mix of happiness and exhaustion. He was grateful that Sherlock hadn’t used any salts or lotions as the smell would have only served to further the pain in his head. He slipped down into the water and closed his eyes. The glided bath was large enough for him to stretch out his legs and he was about to do so he heard a soft;

“Move forward”

“I thought that I was having a bath alone?” Mycroft chuckled butt walking his way forward and allowing his younger brother to slip into the bath behind him his long legs spread either side of them. Sherlock tugged his shoulders pulling him back so that he could lay his head on his chest. Sherlock was bony but there was a still some fat making him a rather comfortable pillow. 

“Isn’t this more enjoyable?” Sherlock asked in a steady voice and although Mycroft was still rather doubtful but he could hear the gentle thud of Sherlock’s heart and he gave a small smile allowing his eyes to close again. Sherlock held him from behind his fingers moving slowly over his stomach which was a lot flatter than it had been before he and Sherlock had started their forbidden relationship. 

They didn’t speak for a while, just lay there in the water enjoying the gentle moments of their time together. It was rare for Sherlock to be so quiet but he was determined to enjoy the moment. After several minutes in contented silence passed he found himself asking;

“How did it go at the hospital?”

“You found us slow dancing to overly sentimental overtures. It went as well as any of us could have expected” Sherlock sighed his voice not changing but Mycroft felt his chin come to rest on his should and the long breath that he let out. It was the same when Redbeard had been sick with Sherlock acting morose while pretending that he didn’t care. It wasn’t fooling him in anyway and he gave a smile reaching back to run his fingers through his hair. “They confirmed what I’d already told him he has around two years left. Give or take, there are too many variables for an exact day and time. He has refused treatment” 

“Somehow I always thought that he would, Sherlock, are you okay?” He asked and as he would have predicted Sherlock stiffened for a moment and then rubbed his nose against him his lips ghosting against his skin. 

“I’m not the one dying, Mycroft, I’m fine” Sherlock’s words were hallowed but at that moment he wanted to believe them, he wanted to believe that Sherlock was going to be okay. “Move forward and I’ll wash your back” 

“As you wish brother mine” Mycroft gave a smile and leaned forward resting his arms on his knees while Sherlock gathered the soap and a sponge. A few minutes later he was sighing with happiness as Sherlock’s fingers and the sponge was moving over his back in a skilful way. More than washing him it was as though the younger Holmes as massaging his back and the elder had to admit that it was having more of an effect on him than the tablets soothing away the pressure behind his eyes and he hung their limply for a few moments before Sherlock stopped and chuckled;

“You’re letting out almost obscene noises Mycroft, if you carry on I’ll regret that you have a headache” 

“As much as I would like that, I feel I would be very disappointing. My headache is unfortunately very real” Mycroft sighed the low throbbing coming back stronger than ever now that he was speaking and Sherlock’s fingers had stopped on his neck. Sherlock gave a chuckle and then nipped on his shoulder just once before giving a hum. 

“Then let me wash your hair and then we can go to bed” 

“Thank-you, brother mine” Mycroft sighed closing his eyes as Sherlock took a jug and poured fresh water from the tap over his hair until shampoo was brought and Mycroft was treated to the sensation of Sherlock massaging his scalp with those skilful fingers. Conditioner was poured on next and once more Mycroft let out a noise of pure enjoyment and he was sure that he felt Sherlock’s penis swell a little against the grove of his backside. Wishing that they could do more he felt a pinch of regret in his chest and he was glad that Sherlock had washed his own hair at the same time and they could leave the bath room together. 

It was cold when they first stepped out of the hot water but the chill was cut off when he wrapped a thick blanket sized towel around his body followed by a dressing gown. Sherlock did the same and then ushered him out, down the landing both knowing to step over the creaky floorboard knowing that the sound would further aggravate his aching head. A moment or two later they were in the warmth of their now shared bedroom. All of Sherlock’s belongings had been moved in before he had even realised it and he couldn’t find it in him to care. Of course, some of Sherlock’s things had been left in his old room for appearances sake but mostly all the things that made Sherlock, Sherlock were all here within this room with him. 

They sat on the bed and Sherlock towel dried his hair and Mycroft was almost convinced that Sherlock had been changed at some point during the day. He was being unbelievably human all of a sudden and Mycroft supposed that it was down to him trying to process his emotions from the day. 

“How is your head now, Mycroft?”

“Less painful than before but it is still there in the frontal lobe” He sighed his fingers going to lightly touch at his temple and Sherlock gave a sympathetic smile kissing him on the corner of his mouth before chuckling and asking;

“Poor you, was it really that bad in Oxford? Did you have issue in Victor?” 

“It was the journey home, brother dear your observational skills are lacking. There was a rather loud stag party. I should be fine in a matter of hours” Sherlock gave him a wider smile and then pushed him back onto the bed. 

“Then sleep, brother mine” Sherlock curled up behind him his arms around his waist his face pressed into the grove of his neck and Mycroft smiled gripping his fingers tightly as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this yesterday but ended up in hospital having a blood transfusion :/ I promise that they will go back to normal soon. I just wanted fluff.


	56. Chapter 56

When Mycroft woke, he was alone in the bed but the tell-tale scent of cigarettes informed him that Sherlock was close by. He pulled his thankfully pain free head from the pillow and scanned the room finding Sherlock sitting on the hearth rug a cigarette was hanging from the corner of his mouth. There was a great deal of ash clinging desperately to the embers and he realised that his brother was deeply distracted by whatever it was that he was doing. 

“Sherlock?” He hummed pulling Sherlock’s gaze from the book that was open on his lap. The younger man gave a slow smile his eyes narrowing a little as they searched his face. His head cocked to one side and there was a worried note to his voice as he asked;

“Awake already? How is your head?”

“Do you really care?”

“I would have asked if I didn’t” Sherlock tossed the nearly finished cigarette into the fire causing ash to rain down on both his leg at rug and Mycroft was too tired to remind him that it was an original and an antique but he was still too tired to deal with biting remarks, plus he was rather enjoying the gentle act that Sherlock was currently showing to him. He gave Sherlock a smile and then jerked his head in the direction of the book on his lap. 

“My head is fine, at least there isn’t any pain. What are you doing?”

“I went into Uncle Rudi’s old room and found a photo album” Sherlock answered lifting the leather-bound book from his lap causing a few unsecure photos to slip out and cascading around his legs forcing Mycroft to roll his eyes slowly a smirk forming on his lips as Sherlock hurriedly picked them back up and stuffed them into the album before coming over and dropping himself and the book down onto the bed beside him. The action caused the bed to roll around a little bit and Mycroft rolled his eyes with irritation. 

Sherlock unceremoniously flipped the book open allowed Mycroft to look at the dozens of images of his Uncle as a much younger and handsomer man. Most of the photos were in black and white, some even had Rudi in uniform from the war. There was a more than impressive number of badges on his chest and he wondered for a moment how his uncle had won them all. He couldn’t remember his uncle talking about the war. It was just one of those things that they never spoke of and he had never imagined him doing anything beyond desk work. It was almost unnerving how much Sherlock looked like the man in the photos and he reached over to touch Sherlock’s knee lightly with his fingertips. “There are a few of Joseph and Rudi, I imagined that Joseph would like them” 

“I imagine so, but are you feeling so nostalgic for Rudi?”

“Joseph informed me openly of their relationship and he spoke of Rudi a great deal.” Sherlock sighed looking troubled "I’m growing ever more convinced that he didn’t kill himself” 

“Sherlock, we, and by we, I mean Bell and I, ran a full check of the scene do you think that we missed something?” Mycroft stared at his brother not angry at the lack of confidence that Sherlock had just displayed but curious as to why Sherlock would have thought that. It had crossed his own mind at the time, there was something odd about the suicide note. Or rather, more the fact that he had left a suicide note at all. It had been such an emotional thing to do and although he had come to accept that Rudi wasn’t as mechanical as he pretended, it still hadn’t felt right. There hadn’t been any other kind of evidence and he had pushed away his feelings, putting it down to sheer emotion but he was glad that Sherlock was feeling the same, he could only hope that there was something that Sherlock had found that proved the case a little. 

“Mycroft, both you and Bell have informed me not once but on numerous occasions that I am not only like Rudi in looks but in mind and temperament” Sherlock huffed hotly his eyes staring down at the photo in his hands. It was of a young Bell, a candid shot possibly snapped by the Rudi himself, and Mycroft supposed that Sherlock had no evidence either, just his own feeling “If he truly thought about Joseph, the way I do you, then he wouldn’t have killed himself”

“And this is your evidence? His feelings? Sherlock, that is no evidence at all. A man in such a state could be thinking all manner of things. His feelings wouldn’t have been in their right state” Mycroft didn’t want to dampen Sherlock’s enthusiasm and he imagined that his brother would investigate no matter what he said but he wanted him to be aware that at the end of it there might not be any difference to the outcome. “But as you said it first, I thought at the time that there was something strange about the manner of his death. There was a suicide note.” 

“What did it say?”

“It was simple, just goodbye” Mycroft sighed pinching the bridge of his nose almost sure that his headache was returning. His mouth was completely dry and he sighed lifting another of the photos and immediately slamming it back down when he saw that it was a nude. 

“There are several of those, dear uncle Rudi had a rather naughty streak” Sherlock smirked almost wickedly and Mycroft was almost positive that Sherlock was getting ideas. He wasn’t averse to the idea of photographing Sherlock nude but he would draw the line at his own body being exposed in such a way. “There are also a few of him in evening gowns”

“Getting ideas Sherlock?” Mycroft chuckled sagging back against the pillows shocked when the cover was pulled from off his body exposing him to the cool air.

“Not for evening gowns, but hand me a camera and we could add a few more photos to the album” The younger Holmes replied his hand moving up and down his thigh and Mycroft smacked at the hand while growling with amusement. 

“Not if you’re planning on giving the book to Bell” 

“I see, I suppose that we shall have to start our own album” Sherlock chuckled his hand moving to fondle at his genitals before he sighed and moved to curl himself up beside him tucking his body under his arm as he rolled his nipple between his fingers “Do I have your approval?”

“To photograph me nude? I should hardly think so” 

“Don’t be an idiot, I would do that anyway, I meant to consider Rudi’s death?” 

“Sherlock, you don’t need my approval, but fine if it makes you happy you may have it”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that this is okay ^_^


	57. Chapter 57

Mycroft allowed his lips and fingers to ghost over the pale chest of his brother loving the marks that he made on the pale flesh. Sherlock had always marked easily in their youth he had often been covered from head to toe in all manner of bruises and scrapes and it was nice to see marks of a more pleasant nature on him now. His mouth closed around Sherlock’s left nipple and coaxed it to full hardness with his tongue while his fingers curled around his hot flesh stroking him slowly. There had been no plan for them to make love and neither of them appeared to be in any great hurry to get on with it. His mouth closed around the pert little nipple and he sucked hard before dragging his teeth back and forth over it delighting in the small pained yelp which Sherlock let out before his nails dragged over his back as he swore;

“Bastard”

With a smirk almost on his lips Mycroft punished him by biting again a little harder before giving him a long hard stroke his thumb sliding over the head. Sherlock trembled almost violently at the action and Mycroft repeated it slowly again and again until Mycroft lurched forward and bit hard at his chest almost near his shoulder the pain was enough for him to realise that he should get on with the matter at hand knowing that his brother was not a man who would ever be known for his patience. As it was an unexpected bout of love making nothing was prepared and he reluctantly had to move away from Sherlock to get the items from the hidden drawer in his bedside table. 

Sherlock, having grown angry at his teasing, took the time to slither slowly down the bed and position himself with his mouth against his cock. Ordinarily Mycroft would have enjoyed his lover taking his tome to please him with his mouth but he was dealing with a frustrated Sherlock and he had to admit that he held his breath for a moment. At first Sherlock, did nothing and just seemed to be studying the penis that was fatter than his own. It was, Mycroft suspected, at least half an inch longer too but Sherlock's had the advantage of being slimmer those creating an illusion of length. There was nothing embarrassing about his member but the way Sherlock was studying it as he might a sample under a microscope had him unnerved. 

“Sherlock? Wha...Ah...” his voice died into a moan as without warning Sherlock lapped at his tip. His tongue made slow swirling motions for a moment before he closed his lips around him and sucked down gently once and then twice. The action served to pull at the muscles in his stomach and he gripped the pillows the packet of condoms and Vaseline cutting at his palm just a little. 

Sherlock’s mouth was unskilled but sinful sucking him in to the warm carven over and over as his pianist fingers fondled at his balls. It was all done so deliberately slowly and in fits and bursts not allowing him to gather any strength into the movement and he felt, much to his embarrassment, tears of frustration gathering just behind his eyelids. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, his muscles clenching as he was taken all the way to the back of Sherlock’s throat. He was sure that Sherlock would gag, and he even prepared for the teeth to graze him but Sherlock appeared to be ahead of him and there was nothing but silky smooth heat wrapped securely around him. 

Sherlock’s tongue and inner cheeks rippled around him and he was sure that his eyes rolled back into his head. His breath caught in his throat causing him to feel as though he were swallowing around a lump. His entire body shuddered and then it was over Sherlock released him completely and then moved almost completely dropping himself down onto the bed beside him and smirking up at him with his lips looking somewhat swollen and bright red from his actions.

“You’re not the only one that can tease, Mycroft, are you going to get on with it?”

“I should just leave you like this” 

“Ah but that leaves you like this also, brother dear” Sherlock pointed out reaching and tugging at his penis slowly and Mycroft shuddered smacking the head away before deciding that he’d had enough of playing. He threw the packet of condoms and the lube down beside Sherlock before grabbing him and forcing his legs apart. Sherlock, for his part, looked absolutely delighted with turn of events and his smirk became a smile while his eyes softened completely. “How very animalistic of you” 

“Sherlock, be a dear and shut up” Mycroft huffed back taking the lubricant and putting a large amount on his fingers before rubbing it against Sherlock’s hole. The muscles reacted immediately to his touch, twitching and clenching just a little before he let out a breathy sounding his face became more vulnerable. Mycroft relented a little bit and gave his brother a kiss on the mouth ignoring the fact that he could taste himself on Sherlock’s lips. 

As they kissed his finger slipped inside coating him completely to make sure that there was enough slick for him to enter without causing his brother or himself any pain. Sherlock’s body was very much willing to have him finger him and he moaned against his lips, his lower half arcing to allow him better access. He continued for longer than was necessary the last thing he wanted was to cause Sherlock any pain. When Sherlock was completely loose he gripped his cock and wrapped it in a condom before guiding it up to the hole. 

They moaned together as the head of his penis breached the tight ring of muscles. He stalled for a moment recapturing his breath before jerking once and sheathing himself completely in the tight heat. Sherlock gripped him tightly his nails digging into his shoulder as he let out a round of swears Again Mycroft paused, allowing them to recover before pulling back to almost the point of withdrawing. His legs trembled from the force of not just pounding into Sherlock. It was only when Sherlock started to move back against him wordlessly pleading with him to move that he did as he was bid pulling back before slamming home. 

The action slapped their skin together like little claps but the sound was muffled by the moans that Sherlock released from both his nose and his mouth. Mycroft brought his mouth back down and kissed him again his tongue mimicking the action of his penis. Sherlock’s muscles rippled around him holding him snugly the movements of their lower halves grew increasingly more rapid, moving completely as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmm I think that this was my first…Major-y…Sex scene for these two it was a lot harder than I imagined it to be but I hope it doesn’t suck too much >.


	58. Chapter 58

“Are you planning on spending the whole day in bed?” Sherlock asked later his normally sharp voice thankfully softened by their bout of love making and Mycroft sighed rolling onto his front and pulling out a cigarette from his and Sherlock’s shared packet. The burn caught at the back of his throat as he lit it and sucked it in. “I’ll take your silence as a yes” 

“You can take however you like Sherlock, it doesn’t mean that you are correct” He said with a somewhat reluctant sigh knowing that he would happily spend the day in bed with Sherlock but as it was there were things that even he had to do even if he were still scheduled as being on a holiday “As it happens I have some papers that I need to look through and then I have to arrange a meeting between Jacques Chirac and Bell” 

“Boring” Sherlock sighed grabbing the cigarette and drawing on it slowly before releasing the grey plumes through his nose like a dragon. His eyes shone with the action and again Mycroft thought that his brother shouldn’t look quite so good while smoking. He stole the cigarette back and then shuffled to the edge of the bed stretching out his back as he scratched his neck saying;

“As you say, we can’t all play detective Sherlock. I assume that you are beginning your investigation?” 

“I’m not playing at detective, Mycroft, I am serious about my chosen path” 

“And I believe you, brother mine, I doubt I have ever seen you so convinced of anything. I congratulate you on figuring out your life but my point still stands. We cannot all be detective…” 

“Some of us have to rule the world. Or at least a very small part of it” Sherlock chuckled saying the words back to him and Mycroft gave a smile and a nod pulling on his trousers and a shirt while Sherlock chewed on his lower lip and glared at the tapestry of the lovers with so much heat in his eyes that Mycroft fancied that he might actually manage to set it on fire “I will talk to Joseph. As his lover, I believe that he would know if something wasn’t right with Rudi in the days before his death” 

“Sherlock, I know that you lack a basic sense of self-awareness but I beg of you to tread lightly” Mycroft urged the skin on his spine almost crackling with the fear of Sherlock blindly going into things where emotions were concerned. “Bell is normally a hard man of science but in this” 

“In this you imagine him to fall apart? Wouldn’t it be kinder for him to learn the truth? I have no frame of reference but I’m sure that thinking your lover killed themselves would be far more painful than if they had been murdered? Humans do that, don’t they? Question themselves over the whys and the wherefores” Sherlock’s face was scrunched up into a near delicate look of confusion as though he couldn’t understand why. Mycroft gave a smile and then leaned over to flick at his nose. Sherlock’s confusion became a glare as he looked up at him rubbing the spot he had just flicked with his fingers. 

“Is that so surprising? You care for me”   
“That is a union of equals. We are good for each other. You are the only one intellectually superior. The flesh may just be a suit to carry the conscious around but it has needs, I could never give myself to somebody beneath me” Sherlock’s words came out rapidly and sharp and if he had been anyone else he would have been prepared to bet they would have gotten upset of them. As it was he knew Sherlock better than that and Mycroft gave a wicked smirk flicking his cigarette into the fire.

“At least you admit that I am superior. But if it helps you then yes, I suppose that Bell would be happier to know that Rudi was murdered and didn’t choose to leave him but on the other hand you have no proof yet. If what you feel isn’t true, then you would have gotten up the hopes of a dying man. A special kind of pain that I never imagined you capable of” He said slowly not wanting to dampen Sherlock’s spirit as he also had an idea that the suicide wasn’t all that it was meant to be. Sherlock hummed just once and then gave a nod saying;

“You think that I should investigate somewhere else first?”

“I can give you aide in finding what he was working on at the time of his death and you should search his room again. There may be more there than photo albums” Mycroft’s eyes moved back to the album that was set on the bedside table wondering for a moment where Sherlock had found it. He had searched the room rather thoroughly on the day of his Uncle’s death almost hoping that he would find something that proved it wasn’t suicide. It hadn’t been sentiment on his part, even if he had rather liked old Rudi, it was down to the stigma of the thing. Who would trust a Holmes if they were killing themselves? He hadn’t found anything, not even the photo album. “Where exactly did you find that, Sherlock? I can’t imagine that it was something Rudi would leave laying around” 

“He didn’t. I found it in the safe” Sherlock shrugged with ease while Mycroft blinking wondering how he had overlooked a safe. He was sure that he had been rather thorough with his search but clearly Sherlock knew something that he didn’t about Rudi. 

“The safe? Which safe?”

“The one built into his bed. I imagine that he has others but this was the one that he wanted to keep to hand” Sherlock hummed a smile forming on his lips as his eyes sparked brightly and mischievously “You didn’t know about the safe, did you? I thought not. You may be smarter than I am Mycroft but I will always have something that you don’t” 

“And what might that be Sherlock?”

“Imagination” 

“It is both your weakness and an asset” Mycroft nodded with a sigh turning to the mirror and trying to do something with his hair to stop it from sticking out in all kinds of odd angles. “But it is true, I never pictured Rudi as somebody who would lay in bed thinking of loves…” 

“And nudes, you mustn’t forget them” Sherlock laughed happily while Mycroft gave a shudder for the first time in his life regretting that he had near perfect recall. It didn’t seem like Sherlock would be allowing him to delete the memory any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that is okay ^_^


	59. Chapter 59

Mycroft spent a few hours in his office sorting through the paperwork and making phone calls his finger gently running over the ring on his hand whenever he found himself on the brink of irritation. Sherlock, as far as he was aware, had spent his time in Rudi’s former bedroom trying to find some clue as to the man’s state of mind at the time of his death. He couldn’t even imagine the state the room would be in when he finished but he supposed that if he could find something then it would be worth it. Finishing what was needed for the day he used his uncle’s password and entered the partitioned part of the computer. He had searched through them when his uncle had first died but he had also searched the bedroom and he hadn’t been able to find anything. 

He clicked on some of the files and like before he saw nothing out of the ordinary in them. They were all rather dull, much of the same as he saw every day and he had to admit that Sherlock was right. He lacked the imagination that both his uncle and brother had and he sighed letting out a swear deciding that it would be best for Sherlock to run his imaginative eyes over them when he was done ransacking the bedroom. Switching the computer off he decided that he was hungry and he imagined that Sherlock would be the same, even if the teen barely ate enough to keep a sparrow alive. 

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand then headed out into the hall almost stopping dead when he saw a group of school children, a teacher, and a guide walking through. Mentally he cursed wondering how it was possible that he had forgotten that there would be a group tour today. Hiding his surprise behind a mask of indifference he jerked his head at the teacher and the guide. 

“Mr Holmes. Children this is the owner of the house Mr Mycroft Holmes” 

“Hello” He said as politely as he could muster looking at the group of 11 and 12-year-olds who all echoed his greeting with the forced politeness of children threatened with detention could muster. “How are you enjoying my home?”

“It’s very pretty. Do you really live here? It’s bigger than my school!” The voices said in a jumble and Mycroft smiled trying to make it look natural over his normal sinister one as he tried to answer the responses in the order that they had been given. 

“Thank-you, very much I find it pretty too. Yes, I really live here, along with my younger brother who is currently upstairs. It is rather large I suppose” He said with a roll of his shoulders in a shrug looking around the hall with a smile. “There has been a Holmes house on this spot for over 500 years. It was first built by the man that you see in that portrait. He owned several ships and was a dear trusted friend to Queen Elizabeth the first”

“He played the game very well got well off on the backs of other people” Sherlock’s voice came down from the upper floors and there was a gasp and a few squeals and Mycroft reluctantly looked up and saw that Sherlock was bare from the waist up. His hair was sweaty and clinging to his face around the temples and his eyes were shining with manic excitement. Mycroft noticed that three of the girls had already started giggling to each other behind their hands as they looked at Sherlock’s topless form which was decorated with a series of bites that he himself had made earlier.

“May I introduce Sherlock Holmes, my younger brother” Mycroft said dryly waving up at Sherlock who gave a salute back causing the girls to let out even louder giggles. “Might I apologise for his state, Sherlock why are you topless?”

“It was dusty in the attic” Sherlock answered with a nonchalant shrug pushing the golden locks away from his eyes “I was about to go shower when I heard you giving family history lessons again Mycroft. I thought I should offer my input as you always miss out the really good stories. Like old Tobias who got really drunk one night and decided to declare war on King Charles the first? Or was it the second? Mycroft?”

“It was George the third” Mycroft answered rolling his eyes when he saw the interest that the students were showing. He had learned long ago not to ignore the cuckoos in the Holmes family line. The aristocrats had their own family historians and even when they didn’t their lives were so well documented that it was impossible to forget who had a rivalry with who and whose ancestors were a few keys short of a grand piano. 

“What happened?” The guide whispered her own cheeks a little flushed as she deliberately tried not to look at his brother who had taken it upon himself to sit on the top step with his legs stretched wide and a bright grin on his face. He looked handsomer than Mycroft was used to seeing him and he was envious that those around him were being given such a treat of what was his. “I’ve never heard of that” 

“Of that’s because nothing happened. He marched his private army towards London and then sobered up before he got there. In his embarrassment, he slipped on the stirrup and ended up face first in his own horse’s shite. I think he probably went home and had a nice long bath after that. Thankfully the King saw the funny side” Sherlock chuckled his face alight in the way that it always was when he could delight in the embarrassment of their family line. “Then there was Sir Timothy…The reason that the Holmes’ lost our knighthoods” 

“Why what did he do?”

“Ran naked through Queen Victoria’s bedroom chasing after one of the stable boys. The story goes that his own wife shot him in the bum and then failed to get him treated so he ended up with an infection” 

“Sherlock!” Mycroft hissed rolling his eyes as there was a chorus of shocked gasps and a few more giggles. “I think that is enough” 

“Oh! But I haven’t gotten to old Delila Holmes” 

“What did she do?” One of the giggling girls asked before Mycroft could suggest that Sherlock leave to take his bath. 

“She got roaring drink one night and set fire to Sandringham. Do you know that it’ll be amazing if the Queen has anything to do with you?” Sherlock mused and Mycroft rolled his eyes just a little bit more slowly before saying almost under his breath;

“She’s a huge friend of Mummy Sherlock. Now, please go finish have your shower and then we will go for a meal. Some air will do you good”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....Hmm....In my head the Holmes' were a fun but slightly strange bunch...I hope that this was okay


	60. Chapter 60

“Do you enjoy embarrassing the name Holmes?” Mycroft asked as they left the estate a short time later with Sherlock looking more comfortably and warmly dressed in his woollen coat and scarf. The younger of the two laughed and rolled his eyes nudging him playfully with his elbow before saying;

“Oh, don’t be a stick in the mud, Mycroft. It does us good to remember that there are more than a few nutters in the family” Mycroft rolled his eyes just a touch before putting a hand on the small of Sherlock’s back guiding him around a rather large puddle having memories of a young Sherlock dressed in a mustard colour jumper jumping through a puddle and realising it was deeper than he had been expecting. The result had meant that Sherlock had vanished almost to his knees. He had looked shocked for a moment but then had let out a shrill laugh of delight before doing it again “Plus, it was far more interesting than the same old stories that you tell” 

“They are also our history Sherlock” 

“I know, we had great people and you will out shine them all, brother dear, but don’t ask me to forget the rather more fun members” Sherlock paused for a moment glaring at a bush as though it had personally offended him and then sighed scratching the back of his neck before muttering “At least it helps to know that I’m not alone in my madness”

“You’ll never go mad Sherlock, you’re wealthy. And the very wealthy are always allowed to be a little eccentric” Mycroft responded hoping to draw his brother out of the funk that he had pulled himself into. It appeared to have worked when Sherlock smiled jabbing him hard in the stomach muttering;

“And you will always be an arse” 

“Indeed. Together we will well represent the extremes of the Holmes line.” Mycroft nodded with a heavy sigh glad that Sherlock seemed to have recovered again “Why were you in the attic? I thought you were searching Rudi’s bedroom” 

“I was, I found a priest hole and a passage…” Sherlock’s eyes shone with happiness now as his lips stretched into a frantic grin as he rocked backwards and forwards. Mycroft frowned looking a little doubt as he brought the plans to the front of his mind. The family had never shown a religious bias, stead easily swinging whichever way they needed to ensure that they came out on top. It was a rather slimy habit, as Sherlock would delight informing everyone, but they had never been a family to back only one horse. Their devotion was only to themselves so having a priest hole made no sense. 

“They weren’t in any plan” 

“No, they don’t even seem all that old, though they were made to look so. I mean a house as old as ours they wouldn’t look twice at a priest hole. There was just enough room for a man of Rudi’s size to squeeze through. I followed it to see where it would lead and I found myself in the attic” 

“And what did you find there?” 

“A briefcase that I wasn’t able to open. I think that you shall have to do that” Sherlock looked disappointed to be admitting that but he was trying his best not to be and Mycroft couldn’t resist the urge to tease him a little. 

“Oh? There is something the great Sherlock Holmes can’t do?” He chuckled wiggling his eyebrows for a moment not surprised when Sherlock tried to push him off the path and onto the lane. He wasn’t completely sure why he had agreed to forgo lunch in the city to go to the pub in the village near to their home. 

“Did you find the priest hole? Or the tunnel?” 

“No. I must give you credit there, brother dear. You proved that you could think like Uncle Rudi when you want to but I suppose we have to wait and see if I can open the case?”

“I could attempt to open it but I wouldn’t want to be responsible for triggering anything that he may have put in there as a failsafe” Sherlock worried at his lip for a few moments his eyebrows drawing together and Mycroft wondered if he had been reading his bond novels again. Sherlock had never been all that impressed by them but had read them because he enjoyed them. It was one of the tender moments of their childhood and Mycroft delighted in the image of his brother rereading them. 

“You think it likely?” 

“I think that I would do it and by extension I believe that there is a very realistic probability that Rudi would as well. You always said that we should hedge towards the balance probability” 

“Of course, it is always sound advice. Uncle Rudi taught us that” 

“Yes, Mycroft, you preferred Uncle Rudi to mummy and father, right?” Mycroft gave Sherlock a sideways glance noting that his face had gone serious with his question and Mycroft wondered if there was something else that he hadn’t yet been told. 

“I suppose I was closer to him yes, his mind was not quite as advanced as my own but I thought that he wasn’t dull, why?”

“Have you given over any thought to the idea that he might have turned traitor? If there was something that he was working on he would have surely told you and Joseph. But he didn’t”

“It happens, even in our family” Mycroft agreed with a nod still confused as to why Sherlock was asking. It was something that he was giving intent thought to though from the way that he was chewing hard on his lower lip “Are you worried about that?”

“No, but I thought that you might. Such a scandal would hurt your career” 

“It would be a setback but nothing that I couldn’t handle” Mycroft smiled happy that his brother had been worried about him even if it was the last thing that Sherlock would ever admit to. “I highly doubt that Rudi went rogue Sherlock but even if he did, it isn’t something that we should shy away from just because you’re worried how it might affect me” 

“…I wasn’t thinking of how it would affect you” Sherlock grumped in his embarrassment stalking ahead of him to the drive of the pub. They didn’t speak to each other as they went inside and shown to their seats and the eldest of the two brothers couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Please stop grinning like that, you’ll scare people” 

“As you wish, Sherlock”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was okay >.


	61. Chapter 61

The meal was acceptable but nothing to write home about, the most attractive feature was Sherlock whose classical good looks perfectly matched the décor of the pub. There was a warm glow which coloured his cheeks perfectly and he even managed to convince him to have some apple pie with cream. The sight of Sherlock’s tongue darting out to gather the cream made the nightmare of getting him to agree worth it. His tried to eat his own dessert, more so when Sherlock kicked him hard in the shin hissing;

“As the elder brother, you should be the less obvious Mycroft” 

“Yes, brother dear” He chuckled before eating his tart and custard. Once finished he washed it down with his wine and leaned back in the seat watching Sherlock until he was finished. “When you head to Oxford I will take you to my favourite restaurant to celebrate” 

“To celebrate my being out of your hair?” Sherlock teased aware as he was that there were being watched by curious eyes. It was one of the main reasons that he rarely came to the village. Far too many people interested in the comings and goings of the Holmes brothers. “I thought you had gotten rather fond of having me around, brother mine, but I suppose that I have been rather cramping your style” 

“Perhaps just a little” Mycroft answered playing the game as he smiled his eyes searching Sherlock’s for a moment his lips twitching even further into a smile as he bumped his foot against Sherlock’s “I was just hoping to make sure that you would eat. Ah, are you finished? I believe that we are about to have the visitors from the house invading in a moment or two” Sherlock rolled his eyes and swirled back his own drink quickly leaving Mycroft to wonder why he had brought him anything other than the cheap house wine. There was no way that he would have been able to appreciate the flavours. He nodded to the server who had been looking on rather anxiously, having been told by his employer to make sure that they were given everything that they could possibly want, and he sprang into acting coming forward so quickly that he very nearly tripped over his own feet. “May we have the bill please?”

“Yes, Mr Holmes, right away” The boy, barely out of school, a relative of the lease holder most likely employed for the winter season to earn Christmas money, whispered broken before really tripping over himself leaving Mycroft to sharply kick Sherlock when his younger brother started to laugh. If there was one thing that he wouldn’t tolerate in Sherlock it was bad manners. He and Sherlock might be the ones that would one day rule the world, in a manner of speaking, but it was people like the server who made sure that it worked. Sherlock glared at him for a moment and then got to his feet pulling on his coat and sweeping to the exit to leave him to pay for their meals. 

Mycroft saw that he didn’t get far before he was circled by the three giggly girls from the tour. They were young, but not so young that they weren’t aware of their bodies and they were already crushing themselves up against Sherlock. Tsking under his breath he calculated the meal and then remembered that it was becoming increasingly more common to follow the American example and leave a tip for good service given. He counted out a few extra notes and dumping them on the tray the boy produced when he came back. “Thank-you Mr Holmes, please come again” 

“Indeed, I should go and rescue my brother” He smiled blandly at the server and then walked over to Sherlock who was looking infuriated that his scowls weren’t working on the girls. “Good afternoon again ladies. I see your tour has finished” 

“Yup! Your house is really pretty Mr Holmes, hey, can Sherlock stay for a while” The chattier of the girls asked brightly her youthful voice high and almost grating on his nerves though Mycroft suppose that had more to do with the fact that they were holding him as though they had a right. Sherlock was opening his mouth to say something rude and unpleasant and Mycroft smiled as charmingly as possible saying;

“You must forgive me ladies, but I must decline your offer, my brother has work that he must be getting on with at home, the attics won’t clean themselves, will they Sherlock?” 

“If you weren’t so lazy you could clean them yourself. I already told them that I didn’t want to stay” Sherlock half growled pulling himself out of the grip before stalking out of the pup leaving Mycroft to apologise for him. He found Sherlock leaning against the fence smoking slowly looking as though he hated the whole world. “Why do people think that it’s okay to touch me?”

“They are young, and you didn’t help yourself much by appearing only partially clothed” Mycroft answered taking a cigarette of his own and lighting it from Sherlock’s. “You made a rod for your own back there” 

“It wasn’t so long since I was their age, I didn’t cling to everyone” He had always assumed that Sherlock faked not knowing how appealing he could be but it appeared that he truly was clueless to how the rest of the world saw him. Mycroft was fine with that for the most part but he couldn’t help but be worried on how much trouble that may cause him in the future. 

“You used to hug me a lot Sherlock, when you were very young, you were always rather affectionate. Uncle Rudi often thought you were as dull as father, he fully expected that you would read philosophy”

“Yes, he often told me that I would be best suited to studying the fundamental problems concerning matters such as existence, knowledge, values, reason, mind, and language.” Sherlock rolled his eyes a little but Mycroft suspected that he saw the faintest trace of a smile on his lips as though it were more a fond memory than one that irritated him. “I don’t see how my being a detective would change that. It is a fundamental search for the truth and knowledge, and I shall use deductive reason to do that” 

“I was thinking over what you said, about Rudi being traitor and for the most part I am fine with knowing it but I can’t possibly think what we would tell Joseph on the matter. This is why I dislike emotions” He mumbled rubbing his temples with his fingers and Sherlock chuckled with a nod stating the obvious by saying;

“Before we can answer that question we must first discover what’s in the briefcase, come on Mycroft”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this is okay


	62. Chapter 62

“I was almost worried that you would leave me with those girls” Sherlock said seemingly giving a shudder as Mycroft let them in to the manor and for a moment the eldest chuckled knowing that his own possessive streak wouldn’t have accommodated such an action even with Sherlock being a hormonal brat but he wouldn’t say that out loud. 

“I thought about it admittedly, but then I feared what you would do to those girls if I did. Although I was sure that we could have fought off a scandal, it it’s not worth the time it would have taken, not with you attending Oxford next week” Sherlock stared at him sceptically with an eyebrow raised before he smirked replying quickly with;

“You were jealous, of children. You really are so possessive over me, Mycroft” Sherlock moved in close, so close that he could catch the scent of their shared shampoo and the very familiar scent of Sherlock’s own bodily odour. Unlike with the mass populace that sought to drive him crazy with the disgusting scents of their bodies on his brother it wasn’t an unpleasant scent just the scent of Sherlock and if he could bottle it he would more so since as early as next week he would lose him. “I wonder if I should be flattered or worried over how possessive you are”

“Brother mine, stop being a brat and go fetch the briefcase you found and bring it to the study” He said slowly taking a step back so he didn’t bring him up and kiss the smirk from his lips. Kissing wouldn’t be too bad but kissing would lead to doing more than they had time for. “We’ll see if it can be unlocked” 

“Spoilsport” Sherlock chuckled before darting forward and kissing the corner of his mouth. It was the barest touch of lips against lips and then the youngest Holmes was off up the stairs so quickly it was as though he had taken up short distance running. Mycroft chuckled and then went into the study pouring them both a scotch before making up the fire noticing a note that had been torn out of a school book. He rolled his eyes reading the gushing of a school girl with a number attached to the bottom and he made to throw it into the fire before smirking and deciding to play with Sherlock a little more. A minute later he heard Sherlock come roaring into the sitting room. “I’ve got it” 

“I see, there is a drink on the side, a forty-year-old scotch please try to enjoy it and not swill it back like it’s nothing” He remarked sitting himself down in the chair and enjoying his own drink. Just to be obstinate Sherlock drained the drink in one before slamming the case down onto the table and dropping down onto the carpet in front of the fire. Mycroft allowed himself to roll his eyes looking at the triple catch system that was in place on the case. It was a fairly simple system, his own case had a similar lock combination and there was a failsafe. The only tricky part was knowing the right series of combinations. “I’m glad that you didn’t try to open it” 

“I’m so happy that you occasionally realise that I am intelligent” Sherlock smirked happily tapping at the case and Mycroft chuckled just a little before reaching over and flicking his nose. 

“That was never in any question, brother mine, though you will never be as intelligent as me” He said knowing that it was just a game between them now as he was starting to accept that there were things that Sherlock was already far better than him at. Sherlock growled a little even as he grinned and rolled his shoulders saying;

“Perhaps, so grand and dutiful master can you open it?” 

“I think that I was rather meant to be able to.” Mycroft said slowly his eyes going to the three locks in turn noting that like his personal case there were two number combinations and a written password. It was in the roman alphabet but that narrowed it down to any number of languages. Rudi spoke 37 of those languages at the time of his death but could write fluently in 49 of them. He was prepared to believe that it was most likely be one of the British languages but he couldn’t be completely sure on that score and he had never been a man to favour chance. Not like Sherlock. “Otherwise there would have been no reason for him to have left it here, however I don’t know what combination he would have used. It would take me some time and if I get any of the three wrong then whatever is in this case will be destroyed” 

“You really do stuff like that? I thought that was only for simplistic spy novels. So, do you have any clue as to any of the three codes?”

“If I did, brother mine, I would have opened the case with a flourish and presented to you its contents. But as it is I think that we should have it checked over before opening it” Mycroft sighed a little seeing the disappointment flare up in Sherlock’s eyes. He really had wanted to open it right there and then with the spontaneity that Sherlock had but he had to be the sensible one. He refused to allow them to run willingly into a trap. He wouldn’t risk Sherlock like that. 

“Why? If Rudi meant for you to find it why would he prevent you from opening it?”

“If Rudi was murdered Sherlock then we have to at least allow ourselves the idea that Rudi didn’t plant the briefcase” It wasn’t an idea that he was comfortable with a and a nagging voice in his head told him that he was simply being overly cautious about it all but it wasn’t the risk that he was willing to take. Sherlock of course, looked thoroughly unhappy with his choice and grumped loudly;

“Now you are becoming silly like your stupid spy books, Mycroft” 

“Sherlock, you and I believe that somebody broke into our home and murdered our uncle, making it look like suicide” Mycroft pointed out slowly snatching the suitcase away from the table when it became clear that Sherlock was about to snatch it back. “I will order us a car now and go to a discreet lab and have it tested. If you’re are going to be a detective, you must learn to curb your impulsive behaviour as much as possible”

“I did, I brought it to you” 

“And I am suggesting with take it to a lab. Another couple of hours, that’s all Sherlock”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmm....sorry the chapter wasn't worth the time waiting for it.


	63. Chapter 63

It took three hours to have the briefcase thoroughly examined and it was found that barring the standard protection provided by the failsafe there were no other risks. It took him a further two hours to figure out the passwords which was a frustratingly long time for him and he growled in irritation at his own lack of foresight that his uncle would use his and Sherlock’s birth times and Bell’s name. It seemed so emotional for the man that had taught him that they were better without emotions. 

“You’ve done it?” Sherlock asked from over where he had accumulated a vast amount of cigarette butts and Mycroft nodded turning the case around and pressing down the metal fastenings which opened immediately with a click. Sherlock skirted around the table and pulled the case open his pale blue green eyes widening for just a moment before a furrow appeared between his brows. 

“What’s wrong?” Mycroft asked turning the case around so he could look within surprised when he saw the brightly coloured pages inside. A man in a blue cape with glowing hands looked up at him and he instantly recognised what they were but he couldn’t understand why they would be in Uncle Rudi’s suitcase. 

“Comic books? Of all the thing that he was I can hardly imagine Uncle Rudi to have been a comic fan” Sherlock breathed sounding disappointed as he lifted the vintage collection from the briefcase. Mycroft fought the urge to blink in surprise at sight having to admit that he was deeply disappointed and confused that his uncle had hidden comics even if they were reminding him of pleasant memories. 

“These were your favourite comics as a child, Sherlock. Doctor Strange the eye of agamotto” Mycroft chuckled a little remembering the way that Sherlock had driven his parents to near insanity saying that he would become an avenger. Towels pressed into the back of his shirt with mummy’s favourite pendant necklace around his throat. “Before it was pirates it was superheroes. How did such a normal child end up like you?”

“I rather think I had a good teacher” Sherlock huffed flipping open the front cover which said boldly ‘Doctor Strange master of black magic’ and looking down at the pages. Mycroft stiffened at the words a little more than he would have liked his eyes narrowing onto his brother’s face as he snapped;

“You can’t blame this wholly on me Sherlock, for a lot of your youth I wasn’t around” 

“I am aware of that. This is wrong” Sherlock said slowly opening up the pages a little more before dropping them down in front of him and pointing to the words on the page. 

“Sherlock, are you trying to tell me that you remember the complete comic? If that is the case, no wonder your mind is a mess. Even you are able to hold so much information in your head” Mycroft sighed ignoring Sherlock’s broken confession the way his brother hoped that he would as he looked down at the pages. He had never been one for the tails of comic book heroes he had preferred the Greek tales to those that Sherlock had devoured but even he could see that there was something wrong with the wording on the page. The ink of the font was newer than that on the cover and he felt confident to declare that if he had it analysed it would be newer than the rest of the book. Words were in bold that had now solid reason to be. It was the same in each of the books and in the last one there was a map printed which was meant to show the location of Strange’s Sanctum Sanctorum but as Sherlock declared somewhat loudly;

“It should be 177A Bleecker Street” 

“Brother mine, when we figure this out we shall have to double our efforts to delete the useless” Mycroft sighed though he had to admit that Sherlock had been sleeping a little easier these past few days. More often than not when he woke to use the toilet Sherlock was fast asleep curled up in a ball like a cat beside him. Sherlock pulled a face which scrunched his nose up and caused his brow to crease deeply as he huffed;

“You’re saying that this is useless? Rudi obviously left this because he knew that I would know” 

“You’re correct in that assumption but I can’t imagine how Rudi would know that you would have the sudden desire to play detective” 

“I’ve often thought of becoming one, even when I was young. Perhaps Uncle Rudi wasn’t as worried about my future as you obviously are” 

“Sherlock, one cannot know you and not worry for your future. Until quite recently you have shown yourself to be rather unstable and unpredictable…” Mycroft pointed out as he quickly read through the comic in his hand knowing that it wouldn’t make much sense to him as he couldn’t remember the story very well though he was sure that Sherlock had told him it at some point. It was one of the many things that he had deleted over the years. 

“And yet you wanted to sleep with me” Sherlock hummed with a little shrug his lips curved into a smile which told Mycroft quite clearly that he wasn’t offended by his words. 

“Sherlock!” He hissed, louder than Sherlock had, as he looked around the laboratory making sure that the other occupants were too far away to have heard. Thankfully they were on the other side of the room looking completely uninterested in anything that they were doing. “That is the kind of thing that I mean, brother mine, you say things that can be taken the wrong way”

“I see, though I mean them the right way. You like me because I am weirder than you are, Mycroft, I make you seem normal by comparison” Sherlock said as though he were pulling off a great trick but Mycroft merely smirked and nudged him with arm before saying;

“And I make you seem dumb, that’s why you like me isn’t it brother mine? Now tell me about the Sanctum Sanctorum? Where is, it meant to be located?”

“In Greenwich Village New York, not Bond Street, London. We should go there” Sherlock said brightly and Mycroft gave a sigh and nodded. He had known that it was coming and he shuddered at the thought of having to do another investigation with Sherlock. 

“I agree we shall go, but first I want to write down everything else that is wrong with this comic book”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I had to sort of have a reference to Doctor Strange. He's my favourite second favourite comic book hero after daredevil and I finally watched the movie the other day (Something I was reluctant to do in fear it wouldn't be as good) but I thought it was great xD Anyway I hope that this is okay ^_^


	64. Chapter 64

The house on Bond Street wasn’t like anything he was expecting. It looked like any London property with a painted blue door with two bay windows and a small one above the door. There was a small patch of earth under the window which was too small to be called a garden though there had been a desperate attempt to cheer it up by having a potted plant and a small water feature. Sherlock was investigating the small garden and peering in through the window with his nose pressed up against it humming gently;

“Why would Rudi have such a house?” 

“You’re the wannabe detective” Mycroft answered glad that there had been a key in the briefcase along with the comic. He had knocked but nobody answered so used the key. The door opened easily with only the lightest of squeaks and swung open to reveal a small passage with stairs to one side and two doors leading off on the left-hand side. It wasn’t very large but it was clean without even a trace of dust or dirt meaning that somebody had to have been here since their uncle’s death. “I’m just here to make sure that you don’t do anything that we can’t cover. Are you coming in?” He asked looking at Sherlock who was now kneeling on the floor studying the water feature. “Sherlock, don’t put your hand in the wat-“ 

“There is something inside” He said with a smile pushing his hand directly into the murky water that had enough algae on the top to make it look like it was sporting a green beard. Mycroft shuddered ever so slightly at the idea of Sherlock touching him with that hand later. A moment later the younger Holmes was pulling his hand back out with a flourish pulling out a floppy disc wrapped in a secure plastic bag “See, I told you” 

“Of course, shall we proceed into the house now? Or are you going to tell me that there is something in the shrubbery?” Mycroft wanted to be annoyed that there was something that Sherlock was better at him at. He for one would never have thought to look in the water feature. But more than anything he was worried. As far as he was aware Rudi and Sherlock were, at best, cordial with each other. Sherlock never cared for Rudi and Rudi had lost faith in Sherlock a long time ago knowing that he would never be the nephew that he wanted him to be and yet everything in this case had been set up in a way that only Sherlock would be able to find. It was as though Rudi knew what would happen and when and it wasn’t a thought that was sitting comfortably inside his chest. In fact, he was growing increasingly more convinced that this was being set up and that if he weren’t there Sherlock would be walking blindly into a trap. “Sherlock? Don’t you think that it’s all a little staged?” 

“Uncle Rudi was always the saddest loss to the stage that England has ever known” Sherlock shrugged slipping the floppy disc into his pocket “He always had a flare for the dramatic”

“You think yourself above that? You are the biggest drama queen I have the misfortune to know” 

“Pot meet Kettle” Sherlock shrugged stepping towards the open door and peering inside. His eyes were more alert and watchful than Mycroft had ever known and there was something comforting in that, as though Sherlock was aware of how foolish it might be to rush in head first without thinking about the dangers of such an act. “It appears that somebody has been here recently, not to live but to clean” He brother remarked his eyes on the shelf directly to his right which was set below a mirror and had combs and hair brushes resting in a neat row. There was also a pot of brylcreem on the end leaving Mycroft to feel even more confused. “Bell uses that for setting his hair. But as far as I am aware Rudi never did”

“He was rather more like yourself believing that a natural style was far better than gelled. Then again, he was rather lucky in the hair department” Mycroft shrugged knowing that he wouldn’t be so lucky, his hairline was already starting to resemble that of their mother’s father meaning that he would be thinning in his late thirties, early forties. “Not unlike yourself” 

“Still envious that I have father’s hairline?” Sherlock’s lip quirked just a little before he took a step into the house his shoe echoing on the tiles leaving him with the distinct impression that, no matter how it looked, the house was well and truly empty. “Are you coming inside Mycroft? I think that we should split up, I’ll take upstairs and you can look downstairs” 

“What are we looking for?”

“The comics spoke about the Red Dahlia sat in the shade of a thousand suns” Sherlock answered and Mycroft felt inclined to roll his eyes wondering why his uncle hadn’t just written a note like a normal person before remembering that he was being watched and had done everything the way he had so it didn’t look all that suspicious for anyone but them. 

“And what does that mean?”

“I don’t know and I won’t do until we find it” Sherlock answered closing the front door before heading towards the stairs. Mycroft quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards him so they were looking each other in the face “Mycroft?”

“Nothing” Mycroft grunted before tasting the lips with a short kiss and then pushing him away back to the stairs. He moved over to the first of the doors and then pushed it open slowly with just his fingertips not feeling as confident as Sherlock but knowing that he didn’t want to lose to him. As he had expected he found himself in a pleasant sitting room with two high backed chairs positioned so that they were facing the fire. There was no TV but there was a record player with a collection of records stacked carefully in the shelves. On the wall was a painting of a man in a red hunting outfit with a horse and the dogs. He didn’t recognise the artist but it was very much in the style of hyper realism that his uncle preferred. The hair on the dogs was so perfectly painted that he was sure that he could see each strand. 

In between the chairs was a chess table with the pieces still caught up in a game. It was as though the owner of the house had just stepped out for a moment and would be returning soon. He was about to poke around in a cupboard when he heard Sherlock shouting;

“Mycroft, there is something up here”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the delay…I hope that the chapter was okay ^_^


	65. Chapter 65

Sorry not a chapter but an apology, i will delete this when i post again >·<  
I havenf abandoned this or any of my stories. ill health and a bout of depression has prevented me from writting but I'm recovering now and will be posting again soon 

Krys

**Author's Note:**

> My second Sherlock fanfiction...I've rewatched the series and I couldn't resist the urge to write my version of how the Holmes brothers came to be...and the origin of the list


End file.
